I don’t know why you guys make me write this smut. I don’t know anything about sex. I’m Mormon for fuck’s sake! I don’t even touch my penis in the shower!
So just remember: if you get uncomfortable reading this portion of the story, it’s your fault. You MADE me write this.
Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz (Part X)
Dr. Effington noticed Bill on the couch, buck ass naked, as she walked into her office. “I’m ready to do this, doctor,” he said.
“I see,” she stuttered as she stared at his erect appendage, “well, uh, what are you wanting to discuss today?”
“Well,” Bill replied, “I want to take the final steps towards rehabilitation, in whatever way you see fit of course.”
“Are you ready for that?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Dr. Effington smiled slightly, nodded, then stripped down completely naked in full view of Bill. She sat down in her usual chair cross legged. “Talk to me,” she ordered.
“What turns you on?”
She looked at him from across the room over the rim of her glasses. “Honesty,” she replied, “intelligence…kindness.”
“Do you think I’m a kind man?”
She started to feel up her left breast. “I seem to think so,” she said, “do you think you are?”
Bill began stroking himself. “No. I don’t think I am at all.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“You said you liked honesty, doctor,” Bill replied, “so I’m just being honest.”
Still cross legged, Dr. Effington began feeling herself between her legs. “Do you think that this will get you out of here?” she asked.
“I absolutely do.”
The two sat there, mouths agape, as they pleasured themselves. Finally, Dr. Effington spoke up. “You’ll have to wear a condom,” she said.
After she tossed him a contraceptive, Bill quickly unwrapped it and stretched it over his part. “Do you need anymore assistance?” he asked.
“I absolutely do,” she replied as she uncrossed her legs. Bill then went down to his knees and placed his mouth onto her genitalia. But he found her exaggerated moans amusing. Bill knew he was no good at oral sex as he only performed it a handful of times.
“Fuck me, please,” Dr. Effington ordered. He had never heard her use such language. Nevertheless he bent her over the chair and took her from behind.
Although she squealed with pleasure the entire time, Bill suspected she was faking. Finally, as Dr. Effington rode him cowgirl in the chair, she appeared to climax. The two held each other for a minute before they ever uttered a word. “Are you good?” she asked as she ran her fingers over his lips.
“Yeah, I’m good. Thank you, doctor,” he replied.
“Then I declare you rehabilitated,” she said.
Bill rested limp inside her for another few minutes before she got up and dressed. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy this makes me, Mr. Lorenz,” the doctor said as she put on her bra, “please get dressed and I’ll begin the paperwork for the discharge board.”
Bill took a deep breath, nodded, and began dressing. Dr. Effington got on the phone with the board while he quietly went to a corner of her office to remove the condom.
He then dumped the empty cumless rubber into the trash can.
People ask me all the time: what’s your worst story?
And the answer is the story you’re about to read…Dr. Si. It’s poorly written, the jokes don’t land, and the character motivations make zero fucking sense (much like an actual James Bond story).
Some background though: the last “Detective James from LA” story I posted was The Man with the Golden Eye, which was the second in the series. While Dr. Sí, for all intents and purposes, is a direct sequel to that story, it’s actually the fourth in the series. Magnum Enforcer, the third entry in the Detective James saga, is actually a banger that I might republish here at another time. But you really only need to know two things from Magnum Enforcer: it introduces the Korth .357 magnum WHICH James uses to senselessly kill the villain at a Chucky Cheese in the story’s conclusion, plus Mr. Ree is formally introduced (although he’s in the first two stories)
However, knowing that information prolly won’t change a thing because this story’s still a piece a shit.
“I’m Amish now,” I said to Admiral Majors and Izzy. “I don’t believe in violence anymore.”
“You mean to tell me we drove all the way to Pennsylvania from Los Angeles just for you to say you’ve taken a vow to never kill again,” the Admiral asked.
“Yes. I killed a man in cold blood. Not out of justice,” I replied. “I felt pure hatred. And I hope to never feel that again. That’s not God’s way.”
“The man you killed was a bent cop AND a serial killer. Fuck that guy!”
“No,” I said. “You see this,” I pointed over to the wide green pastures. Off in the distance, Amish brethren were erecting a barn. “This is God’s way. Hard work and community. That’s what will get us to heaven.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this bullshit,” the Admiral replied. “So you wanna play hardball eh? Fine. $2 million. I am offering you $2 million of tax payer money to join my force. One of our top nuclear scientists have gone missing, and we have reason to suspect that the Ionian Liberation Front is behind it. You’ve dealt with those guys before. If you change your mind, you know where to reach me.”
The Admiral stormed off. Izzy bashfully stood around.
“What’s her name,” she asked.
“Miriam,” I replied. “She’s a good woman. She’ll make an excellent mother.”
“I’m happy for you,” she said. “I’m seeing someone too. I gave Admiral Majors a hand job on drive over here. He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”
“I wish you two the best of luck.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Goodbye James.”
After I finished tending to the cattle, I washed off the bull semen then went to the homestead for supper. Miriam served me up a plate of beans and cornbread.
Miriam was a plain and simple Amish woman. We married during the fall harvest. Her father was Ezekiel, one of the community leaders. He was generous enough to take me in.
“Didist thou havest a good day,” she asked.
“I did Miriam. This is a well-earned supper after an honest day’s work.”
“The Lord hath blessed us. I am pregnant with child.”
“This is swell news indeed. The community with rejoice at the announcement.”
We smiled and held hands while we sat around the fireplace. I was loading tobacco into my pipe when Ezekiel stopped by.
“The Lord has brought forth good news,” I told him. “Miriam is pregnant with child.”
“Praise the Lord indeed,” he replied. “I am going to be a grandfather.”
The two of us went to the porch to watch the sunset. I took a match to the pipe. “So what brings you by Ezekiel,” I asked.
“I’m afraid Brother Peter is not doing well,” he said. “He won’t likely survive through the night.”
“That’s a shame. Miriam and I shall pray on it.”
“Unfortunately, I bring more bad news. Bandits have returned and stole four more chickens. We don’t have the funds to replace them. I’m afraid that we are having trouble feeding the children and the harvest isn’t bringing what we need. Times are hard indeed.”
“The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away,” I said.
“I wish someone would do something about these bandits. They have drained all of our resources for the winter,” Ezekiel said.
I puffed on the pipe and rocked in the chair. “I’m sure the Lord will provide.”
That night I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned. I sat up and kissed Miriam on the forehead while she peacefully slept.
I grabbed a shovel and hid behind the chicken coup while I waited for the bandits. I heard twigs snapping and bushes rustling. They were close.
“Stop right there or I’ll bash your head in,” I told the two bandits.
They laughed. “You’re Amish,” they said. “You can’t hurt us.”
“Grab my cock and find out,” I replied, referring to the rooster.
We had a stare down. I waited for one of them to make a move. One went for his pistol and I smashed the shovel right on his dick.
“My dick,” he yelled.
The other one leapt at me and I knocked his clean off his shoulders. Blood sprayed all over the coup. I went over to the other man laying on the ground.
“Don’t kill me,” he yelled. But I smashed the shovel right into his guts.
I buried the bodies deep in the woods.
I took the shovel and began digging behind the barn. Out of the dirt I pulled out an old oak box.
Inside the box: the Korth 357 magnum.
“I’m sorry Miriam,” I said before I departed for Washington. “I’m doing this for the money. I must save our Amish community.”
We exchanged goodbyes and I rode my horse and buggy down to Washington DC to rendezvous with Admiral Majors at the Pentagon.
“I knew you couldn’t refuse my offer,” the Admiral said. “Now take off that Amish bullshit. You’re a colonel in the Army now.”
I donned my uniform and saluted the Admiral. “Welcome to the Kill Force,” he said.
We boarded a plane and flew to The Hague. “What’s this about,” I asked the Admiral.
“We’re going to meet with Angelika Antoluktokoloplos. She knows the whereabouts of our missing nuclear scientist. Right now, she’s standing trial for war crimes.”
Angelika: my former nemesis turned ally during the Franco De Werner case.
Izzy flew along with us. Her and the Admiral were now married. “The President married us. We had the wedding on the White House lawn. You should have been there,” she said. She was trying to make me jealous.
“I’m so happy for you Izzy,” I replied.
Also on the flight was none other than Mr. Ree. “Well as I live in breath,” I told him. “I thought you died back in Los Angeles.”
He laughed. “No, I had an increased blood flow from that massive erection while I was pretending to be a prostitute. That’s what saved me. Thank god for viagra,” he said as he was popping viagra. “Now I always walk around with a boner.”
Me and Mr. Ree shared a few drinks at the airplane bar. “Keep the martinis coming,” I told the bartender.
“I heard you turned Amish,” Mr. Ree said.
“I’m a new man now,” I replied. “I’m only doing this for the money.”
“You get paid to do this?”
We got rip roaring drunk at the bar. I couldn’t sleep on the flight. Mr. Ree gave me a Xanax.
That morning, the plane landed at The Hague. The Admiral, Izzy, Mr. Ree, and myself were escorted to the maximum security prison by a NATO officer, Maj. Jzerkov.
“Be warned,” Jzerkov said. “The prisoner is uncooperative, she hasn’t given up any information regarding the whereabouts of the Ionian Liberation Front.”
“Just take us to her,” the Admiral said.
Angelika was locked up in a 3×3 glass box, chained to a chair. “Why is she nude sir,” I asked Jzerkov. “To prevent suicide,” he replied. “These terrorists will stop at nothing to avoid answering for their crimes.”
“Well well well,” Angelika said. “If it isn’t the Admiral and his lap dog. It’s Private Detective James from Los Angeles, isn’t it?”
“It’s Colonel James now,” I replied.
“Where’s our missing nuclear scientist, Ms. Antelukolpolous,” the Admiral asked.
“Why should I tell you anything?”
The Admiral took me and Jzerkov aside. “Release her into my custody,” he told Jzerkov.
“This is highly irregular Admiral! She’s standing trial,” Jzerkov replied.
“Look, I need a bargaining chip.”
Jzerkov thought for a second. “Alright, Admiral,” he responded. “But you owe me one.”
The Admiral nodded and went back to interrogating Angelika. “Okay Ms. Anolupolokolopos,” he said. “We are prepared to cut you a deal: charges will be dropped and you will be released into my custody….IF…if….you provide us any information. Just a name will suffice.”
Angelika sat back in her seat and smiled. “If you plan on going after the Ionian Liberation Front, you better bring bigger guns.”
“Angelika, please cooperate,” I said.
“Alright,” she responded. “You want a name, here’s a name. The man who kidnapped your highly esteem scientist is none other than…,” she gave a long pause.
Angelika was loaded onto the plane, strapped to a dolly like she was Hannibal Lector. Maj. Jzerkov was generous enough to give her a jumpsuit.
This time, the plane was bound for Hawaii, the last known location of the nuclear scientist and Dr. Si.
“Are we getting drunk on the plane again,” Mr. Ree asked.
“Damn right we are!”
Admiral Majors joined us at the bar. He was to brief us on our mission.
“The rest of the Kill Squad will join us in Honolulu,” the Admiral said. “Sgt. Private, Captain Corporal, and Lieutenant Sargent have been fully briefed on the situation.”
“Maybe I’ve been too drunk to pay attention,” I said. “But what is our mission?”
“I thought it was obvious,” the Admiral replied. “Retrieve the scientist and kill all the bad guys. How complicated do you want this to get?”
“What about Dr. Sí? What will we do if we capture him?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
After drinks, I went to the cargo bay to talk with Angelika. I dismissed the guards and removed her mask.
“Can you remove the straps please,” she asked. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I unstrapped her from the dolly and watched her closely while she used the toilet.
“Does this turn you on,” she asked.
It kinda did but I played it cool. “Just making sure you don’t escape,” I replied.
“Where am I gonna go? We’re on a plane.”
I didn’t reply. She wiped and flushed the toilet. “Gonna wash your hands,” I asked.
“Why? I didn’t shit on my hands. So what do you want to talk to me about?”
“What’s the deal with Dr. Sí? Why is he so important?”
“This technology he possesses, you couldn’t possibly imagine its power.”
“A nuclear weapon?”
“No. Something more powerful.”
“What could be more powerful than a nuclear weapon?”
“You have a small imagination.”
I scratched my head. Maybe I was too drunk to have this conversation. “Well what does he want with a nuclear scientist,” I asked.
“Nuclear power can be used for other things than just weapons.”
“Care to divulge?”
“Set me free from this cargo bay and I’ll tell you everything.”
“I’ll have to discuss that with the Admiral. He’s particularly concerned about the….”
I turned around for a second and Angelika leapt at me with a makeshift knife (that she presumably snuck in up her ass (or vagina)). I was quick enough to grab her arm and throw her to the ground.
I laid on top of her for a brief moment. We stared into each other’s eyes while I restrained her, my mouth inches from hers. We were both aroused by the sudden burst of action.
The guards rushed in when they heard the commotion. “I got the situation under control,” I told them.
I stood up and ordered the guards to strap her back to the dolly. “Our conversation is done here,” I said. “I’m gonna go jack of…er, I mean, get a Jack. A Jack and Coke. I’m gonna go get drunk.”
But I didn’t go to the bar. I rushed to my cabin to beat off.
The Kill Squad met us at Honolulu Airport. While we were unloading in the hangar, Sgt. Private, Lt. Corporal, and Cpt. Sargent gawked at Angelika.
“I’d like to stick my penis into her vagina, if you know what I mean ,” said Sgt. Private.
I bashed him in the face with the butt of my rifle. “Watch your mouth. Ms. Antolonolupolopolos is under our protection. She is our guest and you will treat her as such.”
“Enough,” the Admiral said. He walked over to Sgt. Private, pulled out a 9mm, and shot him in the head.
“Jesus Christ,” I yelled.
“I will not tolerate insubordination in this unit,” the Admiral said. “Lt. Corporal, Cpt. Sargent…get rid of the body.”
I walked over to Mr. Ree. “Does the Admiral usually shoot people for insubordination,” I asked.
“Oh yeah! All the time. Don’t worry about it.”
Afterwards, the entire squad, plus Angelika and Izzy, was airlifted by helicopter to a remote location in the jungle…on the other side of Diamond Head. We set up headquarters in a small hut where we planned our excursion.
The Admiral laid out a map on the table. “Dr. Sí and the scientist were last seen at this location,” he said while pointing to a spot on the map. “I believe they’re now here,” he continued while pointing at a different spot. “Do you agree, Colonel?”
“Sure,” I replied. “Why not?”
“Good. We will head out at 0600 tomorrow morning. Load up on extra ammo,” he said to the group. “We’re bound to run into some resistance.”
The squad retreated to their huts around the camp. I ran into Izzy on my way out.
“The Admiral is a great guy, isn’t he,” she asked.
“He’s a crazy asshole. I’ll say that much.”
I noticed that she had a black eye. “You know Izzy,” I said. “If you ever need to talk about anything, you can come to me.”
“Oh, this black eye,” she asked. “This is nothing. We get a little carried away in the bedroom.”
“Well be careful,” I replied. “No choking stuff. I learned that one the hard way.”
Meanwhile, Cpt. Sargent was harassing Angelika in her hut. An explosive collar was placed around her neck in the event she tried to flee or attacked someone in the group.
“If you don’t leave Angelika alone,” I said to Cpt. Sargent, “I’m gonna place that collar around YOUR neck.”
He glared at me as he left her hut.
“I don’t need your protection James. I can take care of myself,” she said.
“I think you do. Any one of us can detonate that collar if you put up a fight. Some men here might take advantage of that.”
I took a seat while she sat up on her cot. I decided to take the first watch.
“The Admiral is gonna get you killed,” she said.
“Probably. But he’s paying me well. That money will help my wife and Amish community.”
“You have a wife? And you’re Amish?”
“You sound disappointed.”
“You’re not my type.”
“Is it because I’m Amish?”
“Just don’t get yourself killed on my behalf.”
We bantered for awhile. She fell asleep and unfortunately I did too.
Later that night, men snuck into the camp. They hooded, muzzled, and kidnapped Angelika and me. When the hood was lifted from my head, I was in a laboratory.
Angelika was nowhere to be found.
They placed me on my knees, hands bound behind me. Even worse, the explosive collar was now around my neck.
A man in a white lab coat walked in front me and lowered himself to my face.
“Hello James,” he said. “I’m Dr. Sí.”
“Well shits assholes,” I said to Dr. Sí. “We’ve been looking for you. I guess the search is over! Can I go now?”
“Not so fast,” he responded. “I need to know where your Kill Squad is going.”
“First I want to know what happened to Angelika,” I demanded.
“Fair enough,” he said. Then Dr. Sí turned to the corner of the laboratory. “Angelika, come join us.”
Angelika stepped out, all dolled up with her red hair flowing down to her shoulders. “Sorry James,” she said. “You’re not my type because Dr. Sí is my type.”
The two kissed passionately in front of me.
“I do want to thank you, Colonel James, for returning her to me,” Dr. Sí said.
“Hey, not a problem,” I replied. “Can you return the favor by removing this explosive collar from around my neck? Once when they realize Angelika’s missing, this thing will blow my head off.”
“First, where is the Kill Squad going?”
“They’re probably coming here!”
“We are certainly not at where they are going.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
The doctor turned around and looked at a computerized map of the Hawaiian islands. “I am a man of science, colonel. In order for my experiments to work, I need EXACT measurements. I cannot afford unpredictability. So again…where is the Kill Squad going?”
I was running out of time. The collar was going to detonate at any moment. Then I remembered…
“$2 million,” I said.
“Yes, $2 million and I give up the coordinates of the Kill Squad plus any other state secrets you want in order to sweeten the deal,“ I replied.
I was bluffing about the state secrets part. I didn’t know shit.
“$1 million,” Dr. Sí responded.
“Deal. The coordinates are 113.998N 737.746W. Now get this collar off of me!”
Dr. Sí laughed and ordered the guards to remove the collar. “Thank you for your cooperation colonel,” he said. “But as an insurance policy, I’ll place this collar on one of your acquaintances.”
The guards rolled in Mr. Ree, strapped to an upright gurney.
“They kidnapped me too,” Mr. Ree said. “Can you believe that bullshit?”
“Ohh come on,” I said. “Don’t kill Mr. Ree! He’s cool! Besides, that thing will detonate before the squad reaches its destination!”
“That’s just a chance I’m willing to take,” Dr. Sí replied.
“Look, I don’t give a damn about Admiral Majors or the Kill Squad. But there’s a woman that’s traveling with them: Izzy. Please don’t kill her,” I pleaded.
“Colonel, relax,” he said. “I’m not looking to kill anyone, except for Mr. Ree over there. I just want to see that thing go off.”
“I don’t understand.”
Dr. Sí put his arm around my shoulders and started walking me around the laboratory. “I understand your confusion. You see, has anyone told you the truth about that missing nuclear scientist?”
“To be honest doctor, for this entire mission, I’ve kinda been asleep at the wheel. I don’t even know that scientists’ name.”
“Ah, let me show you.”
Dr. Sí opened a door and out walked an old man in a lab coat. I think I was supposed to be impressed by this.
“I don’t know who this is,” I said.
“That’s J. Robert Oppenheimer.”
“J. Robert Op…the father of the atomic bomb?! What are you? Some kind of fucking moron?”
“You cloned him?”
“No asshole! I brought him from the past into the future! Don’t you get it yet? I invented time travel!!”
I walked up to Oppenheimer and looked him up and down. “Welcome to the future,” I told him. “We killed Hitler.”
“I know that, dumbass,” he replied. “We should have dropped the bomb on him!”
I looked back over to Dr. Sí. “So what? You invented time travel. Big whoop. How can you use that against the Kill Squad?”
“That’s why I brought my friend Oppenheimer to the present. You see, we created a new kind of weapon: a time weapon.”
“That sounds pretty fucking stupid, Dr. Sí,” I said. “How can you weaponize time?”
“Well you see, if you can triangulate the space time continuum, the quantum field fluctuations will…”
“Okay, sorry I asked,” I interrupted. “That science shit is boring. Cut to the chase. What’s gonna happen to the Kill Squad?”
“I will fire a plasma energy weapon at their coordinates. When the weapon reaches them, it will generate a quantum field around them and they will be transported to a different time and place.”
“My god,” I said. “A non-destructive weapon. You’re a genius Dr. Sí.”
“So you’re not a complete fucking idiot after all,” he replied. “It is far more humane than the nuclear weapons of the last 80 years. Imagine: no more nuclear fallout, no more mass death…we simply transport our enemies to a different time, different place.”
I looked around the laboratory…at all the scientists running around, to Oppenheimer, to Angelika, and then over to Mr. Ree.
“I cannot deny your genius, Dr. Si,” I said. “But it appears that the only one in danger here is Mr. Ree. If you’re really are humane, you’d remove that collar.”
Dr. Sí nodded. “I suppose you’re right, Colonel.” He looked to the guards. “Remove the collar.”
The guards walked over to the gurney and removed the collar. As they were about to dispose of it, it detonated, killing and maiming several of them.
Out of the confusion, Oppenheimer attacked one of the guards, grabbing his machine gun.
“Put down the gun Oppenheimer,” Dr. Sí said.
“No,” he replied. “You’ve been holding me hostage here. I’m not your puppet!”
“But Bob,” Dr. Sí pleaded. “We’ve been building something special here. Don’t you want to finish our work?”
“No! No more weapons!”
More guards rushed into the room, forcing Oppenheimer to drop his gun.
“Sorry Bob,” Dr. Sí said. “It appears your time is up.”
Mr. Ree was released from the gurney. The two of us were ordered to raise our hands and were rounded up with Oppenheimer.
“Lock these scum up,” Dr. Sí ordered.
“This is science gone haywire,” J. Robert Oppenheimer said. “I should have never agreed to help Dr. Sí.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” I said to him. “We’ll get you out of here and back to your own time.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” he replied.
“Sure it does. It’s science! Anything is possible.”
“We can’t just go ‘back in time’. Doing so would violate all sorts of Newton’s laws. When the quantum field is generated, the individual is transported to an alternate timeline. The laws of physics remain the same and the outcomes in these timelines might be similar to our own, but it’s not the same timeline. Am I making sense?”
“Nope,” I replied. “But we’ll get you as close to your timeline as humanly possible.”
“Forget it,” Oppenheimer replied. “Our best option is to disarm the weapon to prevent this from happening again.”
“How do we do that?”
“There’s a special property in the element of gold that penetrates through space and time. If the gold is removed from the nano chambers, the weapon would be powerless.”
“Sounds like a plan Bob.” I looked over to Mr. Ree. “Do you think the Kill Squad will alter course and find us?”
“I doubt it,” Mr. Ree said. “I don’t even know where we’re at.”
“We’re at the bottom of a dormant volcano,” Oppenheimer said. “They’ll never find us.”
“Shit,” I said. “Then we have to take matters into our own hands. We just need an opportunity.”
Angelika then peered through the opening of our cell door. “James,” she said, “just hold tight, I’m gonna get you out of here.”
“Angelika,” I replied, “I thought you were with Dr. Sí.”
She then reached her hand through the opening to touch my own. “Dr. Sí is no friend of the Ionian Liberation Front. He’s no friend of peace and justice. I don’t want this technology to fall into the wrong hands.”
“Get us out of here and we’ll destroy it,” I said.
“No! Think about it James. With this weapon, we can right all the wrongs. We can undo our violent past and create a better future.”
“I don’t know Angelika.”
“Please, I’ll get you out of here. But let me have the weapon.”
I thought for a second and agreed to her terms. Then she grasped my hand tightly.
“What’s your wife’s name?” she asked.
“She’s a lucky woman. Perhaps in another time….”
She let go of my hand and closed the opening. I heard some rustling outside, then a few gunshots. After a few moments, the cell door blasted open.
Angelika walked across the rubble wearing a skintight leather suit and holding a Heckler & Koch M27.
“Alright boys,” she said. “Let’s blow the top off this volcano.”
We stole guns off some guards that Angelika brutally murdered and ran down the corridor.
“The time weapon is is being held three floors above us,” Angelika said.
We began to feel tremors all around us. I asked Angelika the last time this volcano erupted.
“About 25,000 years ago,” she said.
“Then this thing could go off at any moment. We better hurry.”
We went down the corridors and up the stairs in an attack formation. Angelika and I covered the front. Mr. Ree and Oppenheimer covered the rear.
When we reached the room holding the time weapon, the Kill Squad…along with Izzy….was there. They altered course and stormed into the volcano earlier in a bloody, devastating firefight. Not many survived.
“Thank goodness you’re alive,” the Admiral said. “And you found J. Robert Oppenheimer. Excellent work. Lt. Captain, please dispose of the scientist.”
Lt. Captain cocked his pistol and raised it up to Oppenheimer’s head.
I raised my rifle to Lt. Captain.
“Pull that trigger and you’re dead,” I told him.
“But Colonel James,” the Admiral said, “this time travel stuff is against the laws of God. We must destroy all of the evidence.”
“No,” I said. “Oppenheimer has as much right to exist as the rest of us.”
Dr. Sí then rushed in with his guards. “Well well,” he said. “Glad you’re all here.”
We were surrounded. We dropped our weapons.
Dr. Sí walked up to the Admiral. “I’m happy to see you’re doing well Admiral,” he said.
“This ends today doctor,” the Admiral replied.
“I think not,” he replied.
Dr. Sí walked over to a control panel. In a corner across the room, the floor moved, revealing a lava pit.
“I’m sorry Admiral,” the doctor said. “But you can’t go where we’re going.”
The guards grabbed the Admiral and pushed him towards the pit. “You’ll never get away with this,” he yelled.
“Of course I will. I control time! Think about the possibilities Admiral! We could have taken over the world. You never understood that.”
“Izzy, don’t let them do this,” the Admiral screamed. She walked over to him and the guards.
“You’re one abusive son of a bitch,” she said. Izzy then roundhouse kicked him into the fiery pit. When the screams stopped and the flames died down, Izzy turned around.
“Can I go home now,” she asked. “I didn’t want to be here anyway.”
“I’m sorry madam,” Dr. Sí replied. “I cannot let anyone leave here alive.”
“So what happens now? This volcano will erupt at any moment,” I asked.
“Exactly Colonel. In a few moments, I will time travel out of here and this volcano will erupt, destroying the evidence.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Angelika said. Dr. Sí walked up to her, grabbed her hair and put his lips on her.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us,” he said. “I gotta go.”
He went back to the panel and a countdown started. A laser dropped down from the ceiling which would release a plasma field around its target, triggering a spacetime ripple that would permit time travel.
“Before I forget,” Dr. Sí said to me, “here’s the $1 million I owe you. Where I’m going, this money is no good.”
He threw a metal briefcase as my feet.
“Alright,” the doctor said, “let’s get this bullshit over with.”
The laser then fired out a beam, creating the field around Sí. While the guards were mesmerized by the sight, Oppenheimer ran into the field, pushing the doctor out.
There was a bright flash of light, then Oppenheimer was gone…lost somewhere in time.
“You fool!” Dr. Sí yelled.
Out of the confusion, Angelika attacked the guards and took a gun. She began spraying bullets across the room. I picked up the briefcase and ran for cover.
I grabbed a rifle from a dead guard and began shielding Izzy. Mr. Ree then engaged in the firefight.
When all the guards were dead, Angelika threw down her semi-automatic and grabbed Dr. Sí. He tried to put up a fight.
“Angelika!” he screamed. “This volcano will go off any second. We don’t have time for this!”
“Time’s up bitch!” she said. Then she threw him into the lava pit. A large flame shot up in the air.
Meanwhile, Mr. Ree was monitoring communications between guards over the radio. “Reinforcements will be here in a minute,” he said.
I handed the briefcase to Izzy. “Make sure Miriam gets this,” I told her.
We shared one last look. “Mr. Ree and I will give you cover while you escape,” I said. “Angelika, go with her.”
“But I didn’t get the weapon,” Angelika responded.
“Let it go,” I said. “You can save humanity without it.”
I reached out my hand to hers and we looked deep into each other’s eyes. “Goodbye Angelika.”
She gave a pause. “Goodbye James,” she said.
Izzy and Angelika, along with a few surviving members of the Kill Squad, ran back down the corridor. The tremors were beginning to pick up.
Mr. Ree and I stood behind the control panel, waiting for reinforcements to arrive. “Ready to go where no man’s gone before,” I asked him.
He put a cigar in his mouth. “You’re reading my mind.”
As guards were pouring into the room, Mr. Ree provided cover while I fiddled with the controls. The laser pointed in our direction and released a beam. The field surrounded us.
Where…or when…we were going, only God knew.
Then there was a brilliant flash of light….
Izzy, Angelika, and the Kill Squad made it out of the volcano just as it erupted. As they watched the explosion from a safe distance, Izzy turned to Angelika.
“Do you think they’re dead?”
Angelika looked to the ash cloud hovering over the jungle. She thought for a moment.
“No,” she replied. “They’re out there…somewhere in time….”
“Well Christ almighty,” Junior said to Bill, “is that a smile I see on your face?”
“You’re damn right!” Bill replied, “it’s a new day for ol’ William Lorenz!”
“Thought I’d never see the day.”
After the two exchanged pleasantries, Bill walked into the cafeteria and grabbed a tray. As he moved his way down the line, he came up to the dessert potions. “Care for some lemon meringue?” the cook asked.
“Ya know, I used to hate lemon meringue,” Bill replied, “but fuck it! Why not?!”
The cook shrugged and plopped the cake onto his plate. Bill then sat down on the other end of the table from Sappy. “Sappy, you disgusting piece of shit! How ya doing this morning?!” Bill greeted.
Sappy didn’t reply.
As Bill shoved his face with sloppy joes and French fries…drenched in nacho cheese of course…a gang of four inmates snuck up behind Sappy. Bill recognized the men. They were all fellow counter-revolutionaries on the outside. The leader tapped Sappy on the shoulder.
“I’m getting tired of seeing you diddle yourself in the shower,” the man said, “if I see it one more time, I’m gonna cut that pecker off!”
Sappy and the gang began exchanging words. Bill licked the nacho cheese from his fingers and approached the group. “What seems to be the problem here?” he asked.
“This has nothing to do with you Bill,” the leader replied, “go back to stuffing that dumbass mouth of yours.”
“Woah woah woah, cool it buster! I’m just trying to keep the peace!”
“How about YOU cool it, turncoat!” the leader retorted. This caught the attention of Junior, who remained on the sidelines with his finger on the taser.
“Turncoat?” Bill asked, “Tom, what are you on about now? Come on man, we lost! Let’s move on with our lives!”
As the two shouted at each other, Sappy quietly pulled out a shiv and leapt toward the leader. Bill grabbed Sappy and wrestled him to the ground. Junior and the guards never noticed the small dull blade being drawn as their sight was obscured by the gang members. Bill forced the weapon out of Sappy’s hand and snuck it into his own jumpsuit. “Sorry Sappy,” Bill said, “but it looks like you owe me one.”
“Everyone back to your cell!” Junior ordered. The guards grabbed the Sappy and the gang then escorted them out of the cafeteria. “What’s gotten into you Bill?” Junior asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Normally you’d be the one to instigate these fights but now you’re stopping them!”
Bill nodded. “Then I suppose you should be thanking Dr. Effington,” he said.
I’m not gonna say I’m suffering from writer’s block. But I’m certainly lazy as shit.
So here’s another flashback from the early days. It was a sequel to Shoot Me, Deadly and it’s by far my least read story. It’s not nearly as good, plus it’s replete with grammatical errors.
The Man With the Golden Eye
The phones were ringing off the hook. Everyone was missing something: cat, dog, prosthetic arm, leg, penis, you name it. Business was booming.
But I needed help. I was on the phone all the time. Not solving cases.
Isabella brought in lunch: a Philly cheesesteak from Tony’s off 5th Avenue.
“Gee mister,” Isabella said. “After I sent a butthole pic to that producer on the internet, I’ve been getting all kinds of acting job offers!”
“That’s good to hear Izzy,” I replied. “But you can call me James.”
The calls kept coming. I couldn’t keep up. Unfortunately, between the court fees, medical bills, fines owed to the state of California for burning down a nature preserve, and replacing the window in my office after a man fell through it, I couldn’t afford help.
“Say James,” Izzy said. “You look swamped. Since you saved my life and all, the least I could do is help you out with your business.”
“Oh you’re a lifesaver Izzy. I had to let go of my secretary the other day. If you could sit at her desk and answer phones, that would be great. Just ignore the calls with a Sacramento area code,” I replied.
As I was explaining the job, Sgt. LP Anderson of the LAPD called.
“What do you know about Franco De Werner?” Anderson asked.
“He’s around 5’10.5 with a great head of hair. He’s the biggest arms manufacturer on this side of the Mississippi. He’s been a financier of various counter-revolutionary movements in South and Central America. In fact, his eye got shot out in Nicaragua for which he now wears an eye patch. He’s earned a reputation as a solid middleman between the CIA and various fruit companies in war-torn countries. He graduated summa cum laude from Emory, earned an MBA from Wharton. His wife is Becky, they have two children ages 15 and 18. His drink of choice is Kentucky Bourbon, and he enjoys the works of Dostoyevsky. Otherwise I don’t know much,” I said.
“Well the FBI called, seems like a shipment of Werner’s has gone missing en route to Costa Rica. If you provide your assistance, the FBI said they’ll drop their investigation into you. I’m assuming you know they’re talking about,” Anderson asked.
“Very well,” I said. “Tell your FBI contact that I’ll set up a meeting with Franco De Werner.” I hung up the phone.
“Lazy bastards,” I thought to myself.
I went to Izzy. “I need you to gather all the information you can find on Franco De Werner. Print it off and slide it under the door of the bathroom. I’ll be in there for awhile,” I instructed.
The Philly cheesesteak went out as fast as it went in.
I took the California 1 up to Malibu. Again, I got pulled over.
“You need to stop fuckin around,” the officer said. “I’ve seen your kind before. You come around here thinking you solve everything. But you can’t. You’re just one man. You can’t change the system.”
“First off,” I replied. “Weren’t you a sheriff in San Luis Obispo last week? And secondly, I’m just helping the FBI on an investigation into Franco De Werner’s missing property. I’m not trying to change any system. And third, how the hell do you know who I am? Hand me my ticket and fuck off.”
The officer glared at me for awhile then wrote up the ticket.
“I better not see your face around here again. And fuck this piece of machinery that you call a vehicle,” he warned.
“I’ll have you know that I get 12 mpg in this piece of machinery,” I replied.
The cop flipped me the bird and walked away.
I pulled up to Werner’s beachfront property. As I walked towards the house, a 50 cal. machine gun knocked up a bunch of sand and blew my bowler off. I dropped to the ground and pulled out my .45.
Seconds later, there was a laugh and a man walked up. His smile was perfect.
“Those commie bastards did me a favor by shooting out my eye. My aim has never been better,” the man said.
I stood up and knocked the sand off.
“Mr. Franco De Werner, I presume?”
“Indeed,” he replied. “You must be the investigator the FBI sent. Welcome to my humble abode. Can I offer a refreshment? A bourbon perhaps?”
“A change of underwear if you’ve got it.”
We went inside to Franco’s Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired home. His servants offered cucumber sandwiches and some 90 proof Elijah Craig.
“I heard you slaughtered an entire mafia up in the mountains,” Franco said.
“How did you hear about that?” I asked.
“For a man in my position, it pays to have eyes everywhere,” he replied. “I could use a man like you.”
“I’m just here to assist the FBI, Mr. Werner. Not for a job interview,” I said.
Franco sat back in his seat and lit up a cigar. Villains love their cigars.
“There was a whole shipment of M4s and Carbon 15s going to counter-revolutionary forces in the jungle. The communists had to of intercepted it,” Franco explained.
“How could they have known?” I asked.
“I must have a rat in my midst,” he explained as he puffed on his cigar. “I need you to sniff him out Mr. James.”
“I’m a simple private investigator Mr. Werner. Not an undercover agent.”
Franco took a drink of his bourbon.
“I know about your troubles. I know about you burning down an apartment building, about the massacre in Big Bear, about your medical bills and unpaid fines to the California Highway Patrol. I can make all your problems go away if you do me this favor: join my team, and find this mole.”
I thought for a second, then poured a glass of Elijah’s.
“I’m all ears,” I said.
“Do be careful James,” Izzy said.
“Be sure to pack my Beretta 93R,” I replied. “Things might get heavy.”
Izzy handed me my aluminum edition suitcase and drove me to Burbank International. I was headed to Belize to pick up the trail of Franco De Werner’s missing arms shipment.
To infiltrate his elite team of mercenaries, Werner provided me with false credentials. My name: Carlos Newhouser…a half-Austrian, half-Mexican, former member of Spetsnaz.
My mission: snuff out the communists.
Kill, if necessary.
At the airport, a rag tag crew of rednecks, Arabs, fishermen, nomads, musicians, accountants, fur trappers, Canadians, dope heads, dope dealers, truckers, Canadians, hockey players, Arsenio Hall, and former special forces were there to greet me. This was Franco’s crack team.
“I’m Carlos,” I said.
“Anyone gonna say anything?” I asked.
A female stepped forward.
“Welcome to Belize, Mr. Newhouser,” she said. “I’m Angelika Anotolukolopolous.”
Angelika was red headed. She spoke with a Scottish accent.
“Let me take your bags,” she said.
“No thanks,” I replied. “I prefer to carry my own.”
We all piled into the bed of a jacked up 95 F-150. Anna tried to brief me on the situation while on our journey to the hotel.
“What?! I can’t hear you through this loud ass Diesel engine!” I said.
“Franco has tasked us with finding the missing arms shipment! He suspects the communists of stealing it!” she replied.
“I know! We’ve already gone over this!”
We arrived at Helena Bay Family Resort. The hardened crew gathered by the poolside bar while children ran and played about.
“I heard you torched a school in Sarajevo because you suspected they were harboring communists,” one of the mercenaries said to me. “You’re one cold blooded son of a bitch.”
“Better dead than red,” I replied. I looked over to the bartender. “Mai Tai please.”
Angelika stepped out in her bikini. The ruffians glanced over and went back to their mojitos. I stripped off my shirt and jumped into the pool.
Angelika looked me over through her Ray Bans.
“I see you have a good taste in music,” she said. She was referring to my Def Leppard tattoo.
I hopped out of the pool and dried off.
“Thanks,” I said. “Got it during their Slang Tour in 96.”
“I’d like to see what else you got,” Angelika replied. She was playing seductively with her straw between her lips.
“On my left ass cheek is the Whitesnake tour from 92,” I replied.
She slipped me the key to her room.
“Come see me tonight, after 10:30. I’ll show you what I got,” and with that Angelika got up and slowly walked away.
She suspected something. We suspected each other. But I had to follow my leads, and Angelika was at the top of my list.
After 10:30, I unlocked the door to her room.
“Angelika?” I asked.
From behind the bathroom door appeared Angelika in a purple corset and black undies.
“Well,” I said. “I don’t see your tattoos.”
“Hello James,” a woman’s voice said from behind.
I turned around and there stood another Angelika in the kitchenette.
“Sorry ladies, I only brought enough protection for one,” I said.
“Please sit down,” the Angelika in the kitchen replied.
“Care for a drink?” she asked.
“Irish whisky,” I replied.
A third Angelika appeared and handed me a glass.
“Can I have the bottle please?” I asked. “What’s going on here?”
“We are genetically enhanced clones from the Ionian Liberation Front,” the first Angelika said. “We know you’re not Carlos Newhouser. You’re a hack detective from some agency in Los Angeles.”
“Genetically enhanced?” I asked.
The second Angelika took my glass and smashed it against her head.
“I see what you mean,” I said.
“We’re after Franco De Werner. Join us, or you won’t be leaving this room alive.”
I thought for a second, then I saw an opportunity: The burrito I ate earlier was roaring back with a vengeance. So I stood up.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I said. “It must be Montezuma’s Revenge.”
“Very well,” one of the Angelika’s said begrudgingly.
I sat on the toilet and started thinking through my options. As I stunk up the room, a forth Angelika handed me a roll from behind the shower curtain.
“Don’t forget to wipe,” she said.
“If you stray a foot, I’ll murder you where you stand,” one of the Angelikas told me.
All the mercenaries, 40 of us in total, boarded the black hawks en route to the jungles of Honduras. The three other Angelikas disappeared hours earlier. Only one was left to watch me.
“Why are you after Franco De Werner?” I asked her.
“In addition to killing our comrades, he holds the key to a secret nuclear arsenal somewhere under the Gulf of Mexico. If we can capture him, we’d control enough fire power to destroy the Western Hemisphere,” she replied.
Well fuck me, I thought. Angelika(s) plan was to massacre the mercenaries in the jungle during their communist hunt, forcing Franco down to Honduras.
I was caught between a rock and a hard place: between a diabolical madman and a kill squad of four genetically enhanced clone-ladies
“But why me though?” I asked. “Are you aligned with the mafia? Are they still pissed because I torched the shit out of them in the woods?”
“Just shup and do what you’re told.”
The choppers dropped us off on the beach. We set up camp for the night. All the men gathered around the various fires, cracking open one Keystone Light after another.
It became a beach party.
I stood watch along the tree line. Angelika handed me an MK 556. She pushed me up against a tree and grabbed my dong.
“Remember,” she said. “I am always watching you.”
She then kissed me and disappeared into the jungle. I began to cry.
The men started to get rowdy. I told them to quiet down, that the communists could be watching.
“What are you afraid of, Carlos?” replied Tiger Tanaka, the most ruthless of the bunch. “You’re the most notorious arsonists in Eastern Europe. Quit being a puss.”
Tiger then pulled out a Henri Selmer saxophone and started rockin’ out like he was Clarence fucking Clemons. This noisy instrument was echoing across the bay and into the jungle.
“Damn it Tiger! If you don’t put that loud piece of shit away, I will shoot you myself!” I yelled.
“I ain’t afraid of nothin in this jungle!” he yelled back.
Ironically, a tiger then jumped out of the woods a mauled his face off. The men quickly scattered into the jungle, leaving their weapons behind. I fired a few rounds at the animal before it disappeared.
“There’s tigers in Honduras?!” one of the men yelled. I shrugged.
Angelika must have something to do with this, I thought.
The men attempted to retrieve their weapons. Every time they got close, the tiger would reappear and drag one of them into the woods.
“It’s an ambush,” I said. “We must fall back.”
“Fall back into the jungle?! WITHOUT OUR WEAPONS!” said Thomas Jane “Little” P.P., the explosives expert.
“Calm yourself, Little PP,” I replied. “Fall back and we’ll regroup.”
As the men retreated, trip wires began going off. A fireball would light up the sky and body parts would fall back into the trees.
“We’re gonna die!” screamed Little PP. He ran ahead a few yards in front of me before falling into quicksand.
I extended my rifle to pull him out, but he kept sinking deeper. “I don’t want to drown!” Little PP yelled. “Please kill me, Carlos!”
When I realized that I couldn’t rescue him, I lifted up my rifle and fired one round into Little PPs chest. I watched as his dead body sunk below the surface.
The screams of men continued to echo across the jungle. I heard growling behind me. The tiger was near. I fired a few rounds into the bushes and ran off.
I hopped across a trip wire and hid behind a tree. “Come at me mother fucker,” I said. The tiger jumped out and hit the wire. The explosion was brilliant.
Tiger blood rained from the sky.
I sat down and radioed in.
“To Angelika or whoever’s listening,” I said. “Tiger’s dead. Both tigers are. There can’t be very many of us left. But I’m still standing. If you want me, you’re gonna have to come down here and get me.
But be warned: it’s gonna take more than a tiger and a few land mines to kill me.”
The warm breeze blew through the trees while the sun beamed down. Dead and mangled bodies littered the jungle floor.
I rested beneath a tree, waiting for the Angelikas.
A chopper rattled in the distance. The trees rustled as it hovered overhead. Four ropes dropped down to a clearing in front of me.
The four Angelikas lowered down.
“You’re coming with us,” they said.
“Not today sisters!”
I attempted to fire off a clip, but my rifle jammed. I threw the weapon down. If it came down to hand-to-hand combat, I was fucked.
Three of the Angelikas attempted to corner me. One stood back. I threw a grenade, but one caught it and threw it back. The explosion knocked me back a few feet.
The chopper continued to hover overhead.
As I laid there in a daze, I suddenly remembered: Izzy packed my burst action Beretta. The Angelikas were inching closer. I pulled out the sidearm and unleashed the three rounds into the chopper.
I could see the pilot’s brains splatter across the glass. His body leaned forward and the helicopter came careening down into the jungle. As it exploded, fire rained down onto the three Angelikas.
They might’ve been genetically enhanced. But as I’ve learned time and time again, no one is immune to the destructive force of a fireball.
I walked towards the last remaining Angelika. She instantly cowered down.
“Don’t kill me! I’m the original, I’m not genetically enhanced,” she screamed.
“He’s holed up at the abandoned airstrip a few klicks away.”
“You’re taking me to him.”
I held her at gunpoint as we journeyed towards the airstrip. Franco was in the hanger while his private jet rested on the runway.
“Here’s your communist mole,” I told him.
“Excellent work, Mr. James,” he replied. “Now that I can trust you, I’ll reveal to you my secret plan.”
Franco turned around and removed his eye patch. A brilliant flash of gold appeared from where left eye once was. He laid a steel briefcase on the table.
Inside was a ridiculous looking retinal scanner.
“When I run my golden eye through this retinal scan,” he said. “50 scud missiles armed with nuclear warheads will fire from beneath the Gulf of Mexico. Each aimed at a major city in the Western Hemisphere.”
“You’re a madman, Mr. Werner,” I replied. “You’re not even gonna attempt to blackmail world leaders? What kind of villain are you?”
“Once when the world’s major cities have been destroyed,” Franco continued. “They’ll blame the communists, and leaders of the world will have no choice but to use my services to defeat them.”
“Billions of people will die, just so you can make a profit,” I replied.
I’ve seen these cases hundreds of times: madman wants to destroy the world just so he can make a few extra pennies. People will do anything for money these days.
“With that type of destruction,” I interjected. “Nuclear winter could last ages. Are you sure that you completely thought the consequences of your plan, Mr. Werner?”
Franco pondered for a second.
“Shit, I guess I didn’t,” he replied. “Oh well, it’s a risk worth taking. But tonight, we feast!”
Franco left the hanger. Angelika was locked up behind a gate.
“James,” she said. “Franco killed my friends, my family. All I’ve ever wanted was justice. Please don’t let him do this.”
Franco returned with his servants. They were bringing in cartons full of local cuisine out of the jet. He poured a glass of bourbon, then lifted it to make a toast.
“To the future,” he said.
I had to act quickly.
Franco stuffed his face with Chile con queso and guacamole. When he finished, he pulled out a cigar.
“Time to get this show on the road,” he said.
Franco ran his golden eye through the retinal scan, which initiated a countdown. He laughed as he lit up the cigar. When the clock reached zero, the computer informed us that all fifty missiles were launched, all aimed at the fifty largest cities in the Western Hemisphere.
“We better get the fuck outta here,” Franco said. “We don’t want to be on the ground when those warheads hit.”
Angelika, myself, Franco, and a few of his minions boarded the private jet. When we were up in the air, Franco was still amused with himself.
“In 19 minutes,” he said as he puffed on his cigar. “We’ll be the richest fuckers in the universe.”
Then he leaned forward as his stomach cramped.
“Damn it,” Franco said. “Montezuma’s Revenge.” He got up and ran to the toilet.
I looked over to the steel briefcase that controlled the warheads. “James, do something!” Angelika yelled.
I swiftly leapt out of my seat and kicked the guard in the dick. “Ow! My groin,” he yelled as he fell to the ground.
With the guard incapacitated, I opened the briefcase and attempted to redirect the missiles. However, I didn’t know how to operate the computer.
“Remove the handcuffs James, I know how to do it,” Angelika said. I took the keys off the guard and set her free. She redirected the missiles into space, where they’d all converge to create one massive explosion.
Moments later, the sky lit up…almost as if there were two suns resting on the horizon.
“Congratulations Angelika, you saved the world,” I said.
“We still have a problem,” she replied. “One missile is not responding to the commands. It’s headed straight for Mexico City.”
I thought for a moment.
“What’s our flight path?”
I busted into the cockpit and knocked out the two pilots with the butt of my rifle. “Our path takes us near Mexico City. We can intercept the missile with this jet,” I said.
I took control of the cockpit in an attempt to steer the jet into the missile. I never flew a plane of that magnitude before. I flew a Cessna once. I figured that flying a Lear at 745mph couldn’t be that different.
“Two minutes to intercept,” Angelika yelled as she was putting on a parachute. I climbed out of the cockpit and began strapping into one on as well.
I kicked open the emergency exit and the cabin depressurized. At that moment, Franco ran out of the bathroom and began firing his Ruger. Angelika grabbed his arm and attempted to knock it out.
“Jump James!” she yelled.
I jumped out of the plane. Angelika engaged with Franco for a few more moments before throwing him out of the plane without a parachute. Then she jumped.
The missile crashed into the Lear, detonating the last nuclear weapon several thousand feet above us. We deployed our parachutes. When we were 20 feet above the ground, Franco rifled out of the sky like a lightning bolt, grabbing ahold of me and crashing us into the ground from his tremendous momentum.
Franco somehow managed to keep his cigar in.
We wrestled on the ground, with him getting the better of me. When Angelika landed, not even she could overtake him. I took out my Beretta, but Franco kicked it out.
While I was laying on the ground, Franco grabbed the gun and aimed it at me.
“Goodbye, Mr. Private Dick.”
The wind then kicked up and my parachute blew on top of him, obscuring his view. I jumped on top of him and began to strangle him.
By this point, I’ve probably killed hundreds of men. But there’s nothing like killing a man with your bare hands.
Franco gurgled for a bit, then the bones and muscles in his neck began to break. When his eyes rolled back into his head, I loosened my grip.
“Let him go, James,” Angelika said. “He’s dead.”
I took my hands off his lifeless body and stood up.
“That was fucking brutal. Jesus!” Angelika told me.
I began to strip off the parachute when a man fully decked out in military regalia came out of nowhere and began to clap.
“Well done, well done,” the strange man said.
He walked over to Franco’s body and picked up his cigar. “I am Admiral General Colonel Majors. United States Navy,” he explained.
“Where were you guys when we needed you?” I asked.
“You were never in serious danger. We were monitoring the situation the entire time.”
Angelika and I look at each other.
“But 50 nuclear missiles were launched,” I replied.
“Don’t worry about it,” Admiral Majors said. “What’s important is that I’m here to recruit you into my ultra top secret kill force, the most lethal unit in the world.”
“You’re a killing machine James. You know that. You love the thrill of taking a man’s life. I watched it with my own two eyes. Face it James, you were born to kill.”
I finished taking off the parachute and threw down the Beretta. “I’m a simple LA detective, Admiral,” I replied. “I seek the truth. I’m not very good at it, but people pay me to do it. But I’m not a killer.”
“Suit yourself,” the Admiral said. “But this isn’t the last you’ll see of me.”
Angelika was later arrested due to being wanted by INTERPOL. Something to do with “terrorist activities” in 14 countries. I called Izzy.
“Mission complete,” I told her. “I’ll back in LA in a couple of days.”
“Oh that’s wonderful, James,” she replied. “Did you find that missing arms shipment? It would be really bad if all those weapons fell into the wrong hands.”
“Merry Christmas, Dr. Effington,” Bill said as he sat prim and proper in the psychotherapist’s office. The good doctor smiled and nodded in astonishment.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Lorenz,” she replied, “I assume your meeting with Susan went well.”
“It did not, but that’s okay. I’m ready to move forward.”
“Yes, doctor. In fact, I’d like to learn more about you.”
Satisfied with the progress she was seeing, Dr. Effington gave a slight smile. It was the most warmth and personality Bill had seen from her. “What would you like to know?” she asked.
Bill shrugged. “Anything really. Why did you become a doctor?”
“Well, I realized the inefficiency of modern psychology to combat pathological behavior,” she explained, “in men, there’s sometimes a sexual component. If the new government is truly interested in eliminating crime, this problem should be addressed.”
“Your methods here have been kinda extreme, wouldn’t you say?”
“Only in light of the previous paradigm of sexual repression. But we’re now living in a new paradigm.”
Bill nodded. “I see,” he said, “so I’m sexually repressed?”
“Not repressed, Mr. Lorenz. You’re sexually misdirected.”
Bill thought for a moment. “So I’m assuming you’re still not wearing underwear?” he asked.
“You have assumed correctly.”
“May I see?”
Dr. Effington slowly uncrossed her legs and spread eagle in her chair. Bill gazed at her genitalia. “Am I still permitted to uhh…pleasure myself if need be?” he asked.
“Of course,” the doctor replied.
Bill unzipped his prison jumpsuit and started touching himself. “Can you touch yourself too?” he asked.
“Can we continue to discuss your history?”
“Actually, I was hoping to talk more about you.”
Dr. Effington started rubbing her right hand down her thigh. “How so?” she replied.
“Do you do this for all of your patients?”
Bill began stroking himself harder. “So ehh, what gets you off?” he asked.
“A lot of things,” she replied as she rubbed herself.
“Can you take out your uhh…,” Bill began to stutter.
“Breast?” Dr. Effington asked as she unbuttoned her blouse. After she exposed her bare chest, she placed one hand on a nipple and the other between her legs. Bill was completely zoned in. “When was the last time you were intimate with someone, Mr. Lorenz?” she asked.
“Please don’t call me that,” he said.
“Would you rather be called ‘Bill’?”
“I’d rather be called nothing.”
Dr. Effington’s moans of pleasure increased as Bill neared climax. “You can come closer to me,” she offered.
“I can’t,” he said, “the heart monitor will go off.”
“I had it switched off.”
Bill slowed down as he moved his chair closer to hers. He reached out to touch her leg. As he stroked her leg and himself simultaneously, he began to feel a sense of performance anxiety.
“Is everything alright?” Dr. Effington asked.
“I’m…I’m sorry doctor, I don’t know what my problem is!”
She buttoned up her blouse and placed her hand on his shoulder. “It’s quite alright,” she explained, “I’m proud of you. You’ve made a lot of progress.”
“I can’t believe they granted you a conjugal room,” Susan said.
Bill was busy setting the candle light and pouring wine. “And they gave me alcohol too,” he replied, “maybe things aren’t so bad.”
Susan pulled out a chair, sat down, and looked him square in the eye. “I’m not having sex with you, Bill,” she said, “besides, I’m already seeing someone.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because it’s John.”
Bill looked down at the ground and shook his head. “Goddamn it,” he uttered.
“There was no good way to tell you,” Susan said.
Bill walked over to the window then glanced at the small Christmas tree in the corner. “Well Merry Christmas to me,” he replied.
“But I did bring you a gift,” Susan said as she dug through her bag. She pulled out a picture of him and his grandfather at Mount Hood some 15 years earlier. “I know that this was the last picture of your grandpa before he passed,” she continued.
Bill took the photograph and turned his back on Susan. He was silent as he recalled the memory of that day. After several awkward seconds, Bill spoke up. “I haven’t seen this picture since the day it was taken.”
Susan said nothing.
Then Bill turned around. “Why John?” he asked. “Don’t you two have a history? Isn’t the government watching you two like a hawk?”
“Maybe,” she replied, “but I don’t care. I think we always had feelings for each other.”
“But you guys aren’t up to the same old shit again? You just got out of prison for Christ sake!”
“I don’t think I should discuss this with you right now.”
“You are! Fuck. I hope they don’t have this room bugged!”
Susan threw up her arms. “Let’s drop it,” she yelled, “I was hoping this would be a happy visit. But obviously you’re not mature enough for this conversation.”
Bill began drinking directly from the wine bottle. “I guess not,” he replied.
The two uttered nothing for a few minutes. Finally, Susan stood up. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back,” she said, “you seeing me probably isn’t good for your rehabilitation.”
Bill didn’t reply.
“I wish you luck in the future,” she continued, “when you’re released, if you know what’s good for you, please don’t reach out to me. Do you understand?”
Susan knocked, then a prison guard unlocked the door and let her out. Before she exited, she turned around. “Merry Christmas, Bill,” she said, then departed.
Bill held the bottle of wine in one hand, and the photograph in the other. Then the prison guard stepped in the room. “You still have access to this room for a few more hours,” the guard said, “do you wish to stay here?”
“No,” Bill replied, “please take me back to the cell.”
Bill kept wiping the sweat from his brow as he waited for Dr. Effington. The nurses once again attached the heart shock device to his chest. After 10 agonizing minutes, the psychiatrist walked into the office.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Lorenz,” she said. The doctor rolled her chair just feet away from Bill.
She was wearing the same boring brown skirt that went past her knees. Bill had seen her don that same outfit hundreds of times. Though slightly relieved…because he thought this might be a normal session…he couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
“That’s quite alright, doctor,” he replied, “I’m sorry for taking out my penis and trying to touch you last time.”
“Given the circumstances, that’s quite understandable,” Dr. Effington explained, “but due to safety concerns, I cannot permit you to touch me. At least not yet.”
Bill wondered what she meant by ‘not yet’.
The doctor pulled out a folder and began looking through her notes. “Now last time we spoke, we were discussing your family life,” she continued, “I would like to explore that further.”
Bill sat up in his seat. “Wait a minute,” he replied, “I’d like an explanation for our last meeting.”
She closed the folder of paperwork in her lap and removed her glasses. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lorenz. But I can’t disclose that at the moment,” Dr. Effington said.
“Why not? It’s my treatment. Don’t you think I’m owed an explanation?”
“All of this will become clear in time. Now please, let’s return to the subject at hand.”
“Doctor, you stood completely nude in front of me. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have questions.”
“Your psychological makeup is quite unusual, Mr. Lorenz. And unusual problems require unusual solutions.”
“Then I cannot participate in this treatment if I’m not given an adequate explanation.”
Dr. Effington sat up and readjusted herself. She ever so slightly slid up her skirt and uncrossed her legs. For a long half second, Bill could see she was not wearing underwear.
He sat stone faced as she continued her questioning.
“Mr. Lorenz,” Dr. Effington said, “I need you to trust me in this matter. Now please…tell me about your relationship with your mother.”
Bill began to feel sweat beading down his back. “Uh…,” he stuttered, “there’s not much to tell. She OD’d when I was 15. My father was also a junkie and he ran out on me. I was raised by my grandfather.”
“Did this ever make you feel alone? Guilty?”
Bill chuckled as he began rubbing his face. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he said.
“What did you do to address these issues?” The doctor asked. She again placed her pen up to her lips.
“Uhhhmmm…I’m sorry, Dr. Effington, but I know you’re not wearing underwear.”
“I know you know.”
“Could I see more?”
Dr. Effington moved her fingers down her blouse. “Possibly,” she replied, “but I need you to answer my questions. Were you angry after your mother’s death? How did you cope?”
“Of course I was angry,” Bill said, “I was angry at the world.”
“Is this how you became involved in politics?”
Bill paused for a moment. “I…I don’t know,” he replied.
Matthew McConaughey’s autobiography is the most deranged thing I’ve ever read. But it inspired me to write my own.
Here are some highlights:
Yellowlights by Beau Montana
This isn’t an autobiography in its usual sense. I don’t remember much of anything. And I’m not talking about a few instances here and there. I mean NOTHING.
I grew up in a family that always told each other “you’re the biggest disappointment of my life.” And we meant it.
My mother held my head under the waters of the Ohio River and said “this is all part of God’s plan.” She was later arrested for possession of illegal methadone.
I’m not a victim.
When I was 27, my therapist shoved tennis balls up my ass and I shit green fuzz for weeks
I’m an eternal optimist.
When I was 43, my brother pulled down my pants at the bowling alley and everyone laughed at my little penis.
I’m not in denial.
Everyone gets to choose their own past. All it takes is a few weeks in the Mojave Desert surviving on wild mushrooms and peyote. It doesn’t hurt to be stupidly good looking either.
You need to get over your trauma.
If I whined and cried about having crippling alcoholism, diabetes, dyslexia, dementia, delirium tremens, and diphtheria, I would have never had the courage to apply to Harvard, Stanford, MIT, and the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater (then get rejected by all of them).
This book serves as my love letter…and suicide note…to life….
“Does this come with a shot of bourbon?” Bill asked. Junior was handing him a cup of coffee through the cell door. Bill’s hands were shaking uncontrollably.
“For that, I’d have to get approval from Dr. Effington,” Junior replied.
“Forget it then,” Bill said as he lifted the cup to his lips.
“Jesus, Bill, what did they do to you in there?”
Bill was still too horrified to provide any detail. Dr. Effington had absolutely cut him to the bone. “What kind of prison is this, Junior?” he asked, “Just let me do my time, Goddamnit!”
“You should know by now that this isn’t a prison per se,” Junior explained, “it’s more of a rehabilitation facility. In this brave new world, the reformed department of corrections believes that everyone, including you regardless of your past deeds, have something to contribute.”
“What the HELL is so rehabilitating about….,” Bill caught himself before he let out too much information. “Dr. Effington’s methods are unethical,” he continued, “I don’t how she thinks that will rehabilitate me.”
“Bill, just tell me what’s going on,” Junior said.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Is she torturing you?”
“Is she violating your person in any way?”
“Look, just drop it. I have another session with her tomorrow, maybe it will go better. At least I know what to expect. But you revolutionaries are some sick fucks. I’ll never understand any of you.”
“A lot of people would say the same things about you,” an irritated Junior replied, “at least Dr. Effington hasn’t killed anyone.”
Bill sat stone cold silent on his bunk.
“Look,” Junior continued, “it’s a new world. It’ll take time for you to adjust.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” Bill yelled.
“This may sound stupid, but I believe in you. You’ll put it together some day.”
“Just fuck off, please,” Bill said as he began to rub his temples. He was still feeling side effects of the electric shock from the day before. Junior nodded and walked away.
Bill pulled out the box of leather goods from under his bunk. He looked over a particular shapen object that he created using crude materials found around the facility. Then he continued toiling away at it, just to pass the time.
This is the second short story I wrote for the blog, the first, of course, being my magnum opus A Shot At the Title.
Clearly I was going for a 50s pulp novel kind of feel. And I think I was partially successful there. Keep in mind, I put even less thought into these stories then than I do now.
So I’ll let you be the judge.
Shoot Me, Deadly
I burned the apartment complex down while making nachos. After the court cases were settled and 20 people were made homeless, I needed the money.
A strange man walked into my office. He laid his briefcase on the desk and pulled out his revolver.
“I’m here to offer you a shot at redemption,” he told me.
“What’s the case?” I asked.
“You’re the worst private dick in town,” he said. “I need a moron, a dipshit, a loser, a complete piece of shit that would be willing to take the fall when things go south.”
I took out a cigarette and thought for a moment. Fuck it, I thought. I needed the paycheck.
“Give it to me,” I said.
“A mafiosos daughter has gone missing. She was last seen in San Diego. Here’s her picture.”
She looked like a woman that could eat your heart out and save room for dessert.
“What’s the dame’s name,” I ask.
“Isabella Maria,” he replied. “She was a spoiled brat. She dropped out of law school to pursue a career in phlebotomy but got caught up in the wrong crowd if you know what I mean.”
“No, improv comedy. She was terrible.”
“Well,” I said. “I’ll need a $5,000 deposit and a list of references.”
“Just send me the bill. Everything you need to know is in this briefcase.”
The briefcase was a Boccio. Italian leather. Not sure why he bothered. A Manila folder would have worked just fine.
“I didn’t get your name sir,” I said.
“My name’s not important. But what I represent is.”
The man left and I told my secretary to not take any calls. I went back into the office and pulled out a handle of Everclear. After popping my Zeldox and Zoloft, I lifted the glass up to a picture of my dead mother.
“Welp, things are shit and they ain’t getting any better,” I said.
And down the hatch she went.
I took the Sunday drive up to San Luis Obispo in my Chevy SSR to visit Isabella’s father, the mafioso Roberto Benigni Vittorio Stararo. Or “Vito”.
The county sheriff pulled me over.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into James,” the sheriff said.
“Just hand me the ticket so that I can be on my way,” I replied.
The sheriff wrote up the ticket and gave me another warning: “I better not see you or this piece of shit vehicle in my county again.”
I pulled up to Stararo’s estate. His wife came out to greet me.
“I’m Michaela Sabine Stararo,” she said. “Vito is fox hunting. He’ll be joining us shortly.”
She was wearing a white blouse tucked into her equestrian pants with boots. Her figure could make a man have a boner, if you know what I mean.
Michaela invited me in and offered a Chardonnay.
“Are you Isabella’s mother?” I asked.
“Her step-mother. Poor girl. She never got to know her real mother,” she replied.
I took a sip of the Chardonnay. It was Laguiche, ‘09.
“It must be rough being an LA detective,” Michaela said.
“If people quit disappearing and fucking around on their spouses, I’d be out of a job.”
Vito walked in with his Winchester. “È questo il detective idiota assunto dal mio socio?” he said.
“The fuck did he say?” I asked Michaela.
“Vito welcomes you into his home,” she replied.
Vito had to of been 90 if he was a day. Michaela was clearly a distraction from that fact. Still, tough old man. He pulled out a cigar and poured a Chardonnay.
“Quindi questo perdente pensa di poter trovare mia figlia?” he asked.
I looked over to Michaela.
“Vito is prepared to give you all the information you need to find his daughter,” she said.
“I need to know her entire background. Who her friends are. Her lovers. Her enemies. And any enemies that you might have, Mr. Stararo,” I said.
“Chiamami Vito,” he replied.
We talked for hours discussing the case. We went through the bottle of Chardonnay. Then another. Then came the brandy.
As I prepared to leave, Michaela came up to me. “LA is a long drive,” she said. “Why don’t you stay in the guest house. I’ll have the servants prepare it.”
Why not, I thought. It sure beats sleeping in a burned down apartment building.
As I was laying in bed, Michaela came in wearing a silk robe. She slowly walked towards the bedside.
“Stanotte siamo solo io e te,” she said.
Michaela dropped the robe and climbed into bed.
I woke up in Vito’s guest house. I was alone. Except for the large bald man standing over me.
“Who the fuck are you?” I asked
“Luigi. Michaela wants to talk to you.”
“Can you give me a minute? I still got morning wood.”
Luigi escorted me through the garden to the large chateau. There, standing in the kitchen, was Michaela holding a glass of brandy.
“Vito died”, she said.
Luigi punched me in the stomach and I fell to the ground. While on my knees, I tried to catch my breath.
“My condolences, Mrs. Stararo,” I said.
“Don’t give me that shit. What happened to Vito? Where were you?” She asked.
“I think you know where I was.”
Luigi then socked me in the face. I got up and wiped the blood from my nose.
“Does it look like foul play? The man was 90 years old and drunk as hell last night,” I said.
Michaela downed the brandy.
“No,” she replied. “I need to know if I can trust you.”
For good measure, Luigi kicked me in the dick.
“I don’t know who any of you are! I was just hired by some man with a leather briefcase to find Isabella!” I said.
She waved Luigi out of the room and handed me a towel.
“Is this how you treat all your guests?” I asked.
“Sorry, a lot of people have wanted Vito dead for a long time. With him gone, I don’t know if they will come after me,” she said.
Michaela grabbed an ice pack and put it over my eye. “I’m going to need protection,” she said longingly.
“I just got my ass kicked. Are you sure you’re asking the right person?” I replied.
“Don’t go back to LA. Stay here with me.”
“I gotta find Isabella.”
“I don’t know where she is. But as long as she stays away from here, she’ll be safe.”
“I can’t take that chance.”
I grabbed my bowler hat and coat. “I’ll check on you soon. If things get tough, come to LA,” I said.
I took a shot of brandy and departed.
It was clear that Michaela was behind the death of Vito. I’ve seen these cases hundreds of times: wife gets jealous of husband, wife kills husband, wife takes husband’s place as head of a crime family. It’s a tale as old as time.
But one thing was clear: Isabella was certainly in trouble.
I arrived at the LA office. The secretary said that the strange man looking for Isabella was sitting in my office. I walked in and hung up my coat.
“Well well well Mr. Italian Leather, perhaps you have answers for me,” I said.
“That’s what we’re paying you for Jimmy,” he replied.
I sat down at the desk and put my feet up. “Who’s ‘we’? Vito’s dead,” I said.
“I know. I see that Luigi paid you a visit,” Mr. Leather said referring to my bruises. “She’s dangerous you know?”
“You don’t say?” I said sarcastically. “Do you really think this is my first rodeo?”
“I know that you’re a busy man, so I don’t want to take up too much of your time. But I want you to meet me on the campus of UC Irvine on Thursday,” Mr. Leather told me.
“You could have told me this by email,” I replied.
“I just wanted to make sure you got the message.”
Mr. Leather stood up and as he was walking towards the door, I said: “if you’re gonna make me drive all over SoCal, I’m gonna start charging by the mile.”
“Keep sending me the bill,” he said. Then he shut the door.
I told the secretary that I didn’t want any interruptions. I popped open a beer and a Vicodin and took a nap.
I put a hurtin’ on the whisky bottle, hoping that it would clear my head. Nothing about this case made sense.
I met Mr. Leather at UC Irvine. He was sitting alone in an empty theater.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“Take a seat. I’m about to make your life a little easier,” he replied.
Two other people entered the theater. The lights dimmed and the curtains opened. Entering stage left was Isabella, all alone.
“I guess I owe you a refund,” I told Mr. Leather.
“Forget it,” he said.
Isabella began her solo performance with a vaguely racist monologue. Then she stripped to her underwear and two nude men flanked her on both sides and they began rolling around on the floor.
“The fuck is going on?” I asked Mr. Leather.
The two men then turned around, spread their ass cheeks, and took a squat while Isabella pissed all over the stage. The performance ended with her reciting the lyrics to Motownphilly. When the curtains lowered, no one clapped.
“That was godawful,” I said to Mr. Leather. “I’ve never seen anything more disgusting in my life.”
But when I looked over, Mr. Leather was nowhere to be found.
I went back stage. Isabella was in her dressing room removing the clown makeup.
“Keep trying kid,” I told her as I lit up a cigarette. “You’ll get em next time.”
“Did you enjoy it?” she asked.
“No, my mother was Canadian so I’m partly offended. But keep your head up.”
“Oh,” she replied and slumped back in her chair. I walked over to cheer her up.
“Look,” I said. “If you’ve got a passion, you gotta keep chasing it. Sure you’re gonna hit some potholes in the road, but keep going. You’ll get there eventually.”
“There’s just nothing that I’m good at.”
“That’s not true. You’ve got talent. It just needs some finessing,” I said.
“Yeah I guess,” Isabella said while she was packing her things. “Say, who are you mister?”
I took a big hit off the flask and offered it to Isabella. “I got some bad news kid,” I told her.
She took the flask and waited for the news.
“Your father is dead,” I said.
A blank look came over her face. Then she took a drink. “Was it Michaela?” she asked.
“I suspect it was.”
Isabella sat back down and looked at the floor. “I knew this would happen.”
“Your life is probably in danger,” I said. I took out the wad of cash that Mr. Leather paid me and I handed it over. “You need to get out of town.”
“But there is nowhere I can go where they can’t find me.”
I took out a pin and paper and wrote down an address. “This is my father’s old cabin up in Big Bear. Lay low there and I’ll come and get you in a few days.”
“But who are you?” Isabella asked.
“I’m James, Private Detective.” I handed her a business card. “Also, one other thing.” Then I handed her a .38 special.
“You may need it.”
She packed the items into her purse.
“Go now,” I said. “There’s some things I got to take care of here. I’ll see you in a couple of days when I have more information.”
I drove back to the office for the night. The apartment was still burned to shit. I walked in the office, removed my coat and holster, turned on the light, and there was Michaela and Luigi.
“Sorry, business hours are over,” I said.
Luigi picked up a phone book and ripped it in half. Michaela stood up from the couch, again with a glass of brandy in her hand, and walked towards me in her form fitting gown.
“But darling,” she said. “We’re just here to check in on a case.”
When she got close, Michaela head butted me and I fell backwards into the filing cabinets. While dazed, I tried to stand up and reach for my holster. Luigi grabbed my hand and threw me over the desk.
“Couldn’t this have waited until morning?” I asked.
“You need to tell us where Isabella is going,” Michaela said.
Luigi picked me up by the shirt and held me to the wall. I thought that this was the end until Mr. Leather busted in with his Tommy Gun.
“Let him go,” he said to Luigi. “Or I’ll blow you ten new assholes.”
“What’s it gonna be Luigi?” Mr. Leather said with his tommy gun.
Luigi paused and slowly lowered me to the ground. Leather pointed his tommy at Michaela.
“You’re not gonna get away with this,” she said.
“Beat it bitch,” he replied.
Luigi quickly reached for his sidearm. Mr. Leather unleashed his machine gun, blasting holes and blood everywhere. Luigi smashed through the window, falling five stories to the ground.
If the bullets didn’t kill him, the fall certainly did.
Michaela pulled a single shot derringer out of the bosom of her dress, hitting Mr. Leather in the stomach. She ran out the room. I ran over to him.
“We gotta get you to the hospital,” I said.
“Can’t. They’ll take me to prison.”
“I was a medic in the Army, I can probably stop the bleeding,” I replied.
“I’d rather go to prison.”
I helped the blood soaked Mr. Leather to the car. As we sped out of there, he took out a cigarette.
“Where you taking me?” he asked.
“The only place we can go.”
We arrived at the Big Bear cabin early in the morning. Isabella helped carry the wounded man inside.
“Who is this guy?” she asked.
“You know,” I thought for a moment. “That’s a good question.”
As Mr. Leather began fading in and out of consciousness, he began speaking to Isabella.
“Am fost îngerul păzitor al tatălui tău. Și sunt și a ta. Dar timpul meu este aproape terminat. Ai încredere în acest om prost,” he said.
“Am știut întotdeauna,” she replied.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“It’s not important,” Isabella said. “He doesn’t have long.”
“Just let me die,” Mr. Leather said. “It’s time.”
“Are you ever going to tell me who you are?” I asked.
“Fuck off,” he replied.
I shrugged and did what I could to stop the bleeding. I stayed by his side all morning.
“What’s the deal with Isabella?” I asked him.
“Poor girl,” he said. “Vito had her mother killed when she was just a little girl. Vito never understood his daughter. She grew up lonely, neglected by her own family.”
“Why did Vito kill her mother?” I replied.
“I’ll never tell.”
“Did you kill her?”
There was no reply. The mysterious man was no more.
I buried him that evening.
Isabella joined me outside over his shallow grave. I took out another cigarette.
“I don’t know if this guy was a pervert or your guardian angel. But either way, I think he was your biggest fan,” I told her.
“Michaela will find us,” she replied. “We gotta move.”
I handed her the money out of Mr. Leather’s wallet, then I emptied out my own.
“Take this,” I said. “Go to New York. Go do Broadway. Go do stand up. Go do something with your life. That’s what our mystery man would have wanted.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“My father buried an entire arsenal from his time in Korea under this land. I outta put it to use.”
If Michaela and her army wanted to lay siege to this cabin, I was fully prepared.
After Isabella said her final goodbye, I began work on a defensive attack. Booby traps, trip wires, and explosives were scattered around the perimeter. Thanks to my father’s arsenal, I had RPGs, M16s, M4 Carbines, AKs, AR-15s, Uzis, and all the usual weapons you’d find in these stories.
I climbed up into a deer stand, and watched. Waited. I stared down the scope of my rifle. A caravan of black SUVs was rolling down the dirt road.
The first vehicle struck a trip wire, causing a massive explosion. It obliterated the SUV and the one behind it. Eight people were killed immediately.
Men in the vehicles behind began fanning out into the woods, but they kept triggering the C-4, causing more explosions and death. The unlucky ones got caught in bear traps where they became easy prey for the mountain lions.
I realized that I created a horrible, if not tragic, death trap.
I climbed down from the deer stand and ran back to the cabin. I knew that the men who survived the initial barrage would eventually breach the defensive perimeter. So I armed myself with multiple automatic weapons.
Meanwhile, explosions kept going off. I grabbed the RPG-7.
I knew Michaela was getting close. One of her men yelled “you fucking bitch! You told us that we’d only be facing three people! Not the threshold of hell!”
Her men started to retreat. So my defensive campaign suddenly became an offensive one. I fired an RPG right at her gaggle of men, killing or maiming all 20 of them.
The few survivors that weren’t screaming in agony began to fire back. So I let loose another RPG.
I looked out into the woods. Fires were emanating from the charred remains of hundreds of dead bodies. It was lighting up the night sky. Yet none of the bodies were Michaela.
I slowly paced through the woods. Then a bullet went right through my left kidney. I fell to the ground and Michaela popped out from behind a tree, doing all kinds of strange martial arts.
She round house kicked my face. She broke one of my arms, both legs and my eyes were nearly swollen shut. I was helplessly crawling on the ground.
“Where’s Isabella?!” Michaela kept asking while punching me in the face.
“If she was up your butt you’d know where she was,” I replied.
Out of frustration, Michaela stood up and pointed her Glock 19 at me. “Goodbye, private dick!”
Luckily, I had dozens of sidearms on me. So I managed to rip a clip into Michaela before she got off a shot.
With fire all around me, I managed to craw back into the cabin. I might’ve been a fuck up my entire life, but at least I’d go out the way I wanted.
I lit up a cigarette and looked over to a picture of mom and dad.
“I’ll be with you soon Ma and Pa!”
And I closed my eyes.
Unfortunately I woke up in the San Bernardino Community Hospital. Isabella and an FBI agent were in the room.
“I couldn’t leave you there mister,” Isabella said. “You were sitting in a pool of your own blood with all your limbs broken.”
“Despite the horrendous injuries and the state we found you in, you’re expected to make a full recovery!” the doctor said.
I didn’t have health insurance.
“You somehow managed to slaughter the entire west coast mafia. There will be a federal investigation into this,” the FBI agent said.
“Do I need to lawyer up?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, BIG TIME,” the agent replied.
“Aren’t you so happy to be alive?!” Isabella asked.