Reality Check 5

Friday was National Rob a Trucker Day. I declared it this morning, seeing as I got everything back but my tricky little belt. I guess I can see why they’d buy it for protection, though I’m offended at the notion that someone might try to use my stuff for anything other than offense.

I put a lot of work into being offensive. I assure you, the chicken grenade was meant to be a weapon of great terror and offensive capability, unleashed on my enemies and leaving them quacking in fear! Woops, I meant quaking in fear. Quacking in fear has more to do with this amphibious version I’ve been working up, duck grenades. I’m even considering a holiday version with a chicken grenade inside a duck grenade inside a turkey grenade. Best part is, I could just put some lipstick on them and sell them to the Russians as Matryoshka grenades.

Well, that may not work. If the internet is any indication, they certainly know what women look like in Eastern Europe. Ooh! I got it! The Middle East! The way the women are covered up over there, they’ll never notice the difference. Then again, they won’t notice much difference if things explode too. You know, I wonder if those are linked in some way. Has anyone ever tested the explosive possibilities of blue balls? I need to get up with Max about that.

I’ll admit, I’m not entirely sure how effective chicken grenades are in the middle of the road. I just realized I haven’t studied the effects of releasing them into the wilds of traffic like that.

And traffic was indeed wild today. I sped in and out of it, even oncoming traffic, to get to where I was going. Just me and my Moai on my scooter, with a sidecar attached. It took me a couple of tries to adjust to that sidecar, by the way. It ramped up a minivan and then had a head-on collision with a Smart Car. The sidecar’s fine, by the way. Smart Car looks like it needs to be reinflated though.
I guess I should make the point a bit more clear that things do happen in between these incidents I write about. I just didn’t think you wanted a whole big wall of text about having some remote homing program drive my Minstrel cycle to me. I also had to hunt down which truck driver the morons had given my belt to, which became surprisingly easy when they made it really clear to any random fan calling in. They’ve been watching the other shows I’ve made my “guest spots” on and the ratings were up.

It was always only a matter of time before the reality TV people got into the snuff business, I suppose.

Either way, I caught up to the semi and load in question. It was an all-white trailer with a cab that was blue with red flames. Original. I zipped up on the passenger side and used my armor to project myself as a clown. With the scooter on autopilot, I stood up and punched through the window, unlocked the door, and let myself.

I just sat there, quiet, staring ahead like nothing had happened. The driver had cussed but afterward kept quiet, just watching me. Couldn’t get the sense of his height, but he was older, a bit of a potbelly. He had a baseball cap on and a big brown beard with a little white running through it. He had my belt on around his waist. Stiffly, he turned to his driving, perhaps hoping nothing bad would happen as long as he didn’t acknowledge me. I was getting to him though. I could feel it. You don’t just have a silent clown break into your truck in the middle of driving and not get gotten to.

It seemed like a lot longer time, but finally, shaking, he turned to me and began to say something. I immediately interrupted him by shoving my face right in his and going, “Who you callin’ a psycho?!”

At which point he jumped and swerved us too far to the left, crashing into a mailbox and into the front of a car parked on the curb.

That went well. With the driver out and us stopped, I had the cycle stop and come back around to us. If you’re wondering how, I do actually have a network set up. That’s right, when I say I have connections, I mean I have stuff built in to the synthetic memory I have shoved in there. Remember, only actual power involves integrating with technology I can touch. Might as well use it to give me mental internet access should I desire.

All the assholes out there poisoning your worldwide information network, I don’t often desire to connect that way except for very special purposes. Except maybe the porn.

I dumped the driver in some old lady’s petunia garden in front of her house and took my belt back. I heard Moai get the back door of the thing so I stepped out there too to see what we had just hijacked. The trailer wasn’t nearly fully. Just a few boxes marked “Munitions” and “Property of the U.S. Government”. I looked over at Moai.

“Alright, might have ourselves a little bit of a payday. Here, catch,” I said, and tossed a few boxes back at him. I didn’t hear any of them hit the ground. Then I got out and closed the door as best as I could with the lock smashed in.

When I turned around, there was the Moai, the boxes stacked neatly on his head. I rolled my eyes, not like he could see, then wondered if I should create something that shows my eyes rolling on my visor whenever I did so. Not a good time for that, I thought. “Stow those in the cycle. I’m going to take the whole truck, but more than likely I’m gonna wind up blowing the whole mess up.” The Moai nodded and hopped over to the cycle.

I made for the cab, but there was that darn wrecked car in the way. Nothing one of my exploding throwing knives can’t move out of the way. Except in the belt was not one of my more recent standardized knives. Nope. Instead there was a switchblade with a grenade duct taped to the handle. Huh. I mostly used machetes with grenades on them, but I DID experiment with other types. The ballistic knife with the grenade attached to the handle was particularly disastrous.

I walked over to the car’s rear right tire, jabbed the blade into it, and pulled the pin. Then the running started. A rude driver in the right lane slowed down just to honk and give me the middle finger. The explosion shut her up. Also, it threw a car on her.

Sometimes I wish I could throw cars at people. Sigh.

Well, everything was all clear for me to make a getaway with the truck. As usual, though, my clean getaway was halted by a gorilla.

I was heading for a building in a bad part of town where I could unload the stuff when I saw Gorilla Awesome in the rear view a ways back but roaring up from behind on his jetpack. Damn that awesome gorilla and his awesome jetpack!

“Moai,” I spoke over the combination radio/communications suite on the scooter, “I need you to drive this thing.” No sooner had I said it than he crashed through the passenger side door. That left me to remote pilot the scooter as well, but I could do that with both arms tied behind my back. I know that from experience. Either way, I want it around for the weapons I’ve built into the thing. “Good, take the wheel, and buckle up for safety,” I said as I threw open the door and crawled up on the cab.

Wish I’d done a more thorough inventory of this belt now. Let’s see. Nanite injector. Giant ceramic cherry with a fuse for a stem. Jar of dead hornets. Um, woops? What about where I keep the knives…Swiss army knife with frag grenade marked as property of Swiss army and ah HA! Yes, an older model of my laser potato peeler! Probably crappier on the energy use, but it doesn’t matter now. Some people swear by the versatility of the sonic screwdriver, but most people fail to note the offensive capabilities of your average potato peeler. And then I put a laser in it!

Ah shit, just took a laser to my eye. They always say you’ll go blind if you play with them, but wait a minute, that came from Gorilla Awesome! Yep, he was firing his wrist mounted laser, trying to be mindful of hitting anything other than me. See, that’s why heroes just can’t have fun. I rolled forward for no good reason, dropped the clown disguise that I’d forgotten all about, and let loose. Trees on the opposite side of the road were seared through and even caught fire as I adjusted my aim and brought the beam to Gorilla Awesome’s wrist laser just as he took steady aim and fired. In two bright flashes, both of our lasers were gone. That silverbacked bastard!

I stuck the broken remains of my potato peeler back in my belt and reached for the Swiss army knife, intending to make good use of the can opener, but he fired the grappling hook at me. It caught me on the chest, so I figured I was about to open his can after all, but instead it stayed taut and lit up along the length of it. I tried to peel it off, but the lit portion reached me and electricity ran through my armor.

Let me tell you, being electrocuted is not fun. I suppose it’s better than being immolated, but even getting devoured, hung, or tarred and feathered feels more comfortable. No word yet on being drawn and quartered. Everything tenses up and you taste everything all coppery in your mouth and your teeth feel like they’re rattling and your pubic hair stands straight up on end for a whole day afterward. I’m serious, looks like I’m having 70s night at the party in my pants.

It all stopped when I directed my scooter to hit the nitrous, pop a wheelie, ramp off the rear of a mini, and smash the sidecar into Gorilla Awesome’s awesome jetpack. Gorilla Awesome had to let it go as he fell and grabbed onto the side of the trailer with one hand. The scooter landed and skid on its side toward me, the mangled wreckage of the sidecar hanging over it. I stepped over and pulled out the jar of dead hornets as he grasped at the smooth metal of the trailer. “And now I unleash the bees! Bees what? Bees nuts!” screamed out over the rushing wind, horns, and sirens, then brought the glass jar down on his hand. The breaking glass stabbed into his hands, but he also went to flap at what he was sure would be an insect assault. To his credit, a Beetle did slam into him when he hit the ground.

I crawled up to the cab and hung out over the driver’s side window, “Take us home, Moai.” The Moai nodded, the trucker’s baseball cap stretched over its head now, and rubbed its back against the seat, causing the music player to start up on the song “Convoy”.

And that’s how you get away with robbing a semi while being chased by a hyper intelligent talking gorilla with a jetpack. Simple.





6 thoughts on “Reality Check 5

    1. Psycho Gecko Post author

      Never had to repel larks. Not even sharks. Though if I needed to repel a shark, I’d probably put on a shark costume with a paper bag over my head. You know, be an ugly shark so they don’t feel like coming around.

  1. yinyangorwuji

    I feel like it would be really, really useful to just have a box of mislabeled repellents and pheromones. Call the grizzly bear pheromones shark repellent, call the King- Kong pheromones pigeon repellent…


  2. Pingback: Reality Check 4 | World Domination in Retrospect

  3. Pingback: Reality Check 6 | World Domination in Retrospect

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