I tried to move quickly, though it confused my underlings.
“Why are you keeping her alive if you’re just going to kill her once you have Dead Meat?” asked Tricia. Her questions annoyed me at this point, but it was also part of that job Harlon had her doing. I still didn’t like it, but I figured Harlon might know what he’s doing.
At the very least, he probably remembered how I killed three of his colleagues shortly after we met because they pried into my origins. So he’s probably cool.
I pulled out my eye, steamed it up with my breath, then wiped it off on my shirt. Then I resumed eating my sandwich with my other hand. It was a good sandwich. I assembled the shit out of that sandwich. Salami, chicken with garlic and herbs, and some of the juiciest ham I could find. I hammed it up something fierce, and of course there was plenty of cheese. I like it cheesy.
While eating, I held my eye over the sax, from which my voice issued. “It’s simple. I’m planning to kill her. The plan is ruined if she’s already dead. How can I kill a dead person again? That makes no sense. It’s hard to imagine I know what I’m doing, but you can trust me. After all, I’m Sax-Eye and I know it.” I made my hand bob up and down in a nod.
“Not too much for your shirt,” she answered. Then she left to go write some notes that involved words like “asshole” and “couldn’t plan his way out of a maze on the back of a children’s menu.”
That would be so very, very hurtful…if I cared.
I didn’t even get to finish my sandwich in peace. Carl called me up to tell me it was time. Dead Meat took the bait.
To lure out Dead Meat, Carl, Moai, and Ground Chuck went out in a truck and began distributed food to people. They’d stop in the middle of an intersection and pass out hams, turkeys, prime rib…holiday entrees. Each one came with a note attached. “Dear citizens of Empyreal City. Don’t be fooled by imitators. Killbasa’s going to end this beef with Dead Meat, if he’s man enough to show.”
Carl had called me when Dead Meat interrupted one of their stops. The villain rode in on a bull made of steaks and Carl floored it. If they were smart, Ground Chuck and Moai dumped the remaining food into Dead Meat’s path.
On my end of things, I tossed Tricia in through the passenger side window on my car. I threw myself into the back to wiggle into my armor while remotely cranking it up and driving it out.
Tricia took a moment to complain, yet again. Nag, nag, nag. I didn’t know having a fake wife would fit the cliché. It’s always something. “Why don’t you have any beds in your lair?” or “Why do you eat so much junk food when you need to stay physically fit?” or even “Oh my god, you just slapped that man with a horse dildo until he couldn’t stand!”
I think she meant that last one as a complaint. It can be difficult to tell. But I fear my fake marriage is destined to crash and burn. Whether Tricia’s stuck in there for the crash depends on if Harlon’s faith in her is well-placed.
Still, she sat up and glared at me. “You didn’t have to throw me in. I can work a door.”
I waved off her concerns. “Just be glad I rolled the window down before I tossed you in. What’s really so bad about all this?”
“You’re a murderer, you’re manhandling me, you want to destroy the world, and you’re getting dressed right in front of me! You are not normal.” She turned back around after that and crossed her arms.
Now that made me burst out laughing. “Sorry to have burst your bubble. After all, we met in such a normal way; me in a leftover supervillain’s base repurposed as a supermax prison.”
She stayed huffy for awhile. Once she calmed a little and I slid into the driver’s seat, she told me, “You’re confusing. Sometimes I think you’re just pretending to be crazy, and then there are times like that flashback you had the other day. Carl and that statue are loyal to you for whatever reason, but you’re a jackass toward me. You go from being ridiculously childish and petty to terrifying. I don’t know why I let him talk me into this.”
“Maybe the suits didn’t like you. That’s a possibility, and I am known for killing. You know, it started to bore me. I don’t keep track of everyone’s names or anything, so a lot of people run together when I think of what I’ve done to them. I thought it didn’t do anything for me anymore, ‘til I wound up in the Cube. Then I started suffering withdrawal symptoms. Next thing I knew, killing people gave me a certain rush. Gotta love me some unintended consequences.” I projected a smile with lipstick-drenched lips courtesy of my fond memories of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
To try and evoke some jolly holiday feelings while also getting in the mood to nab another person on my holiday wish list, I put on that old holiday classic “I Am Santa Claus.” It was quite possibly the best holiday parody of a Black Sabbath song in the last thousand years.
That makes it a classic. Just like “Come On Eileen” remains the best bukkake song ever performed. As for “Beat It,” I’m sure you can guess what kind of song that is. Uh huh. You know what I’m saying: eggs.
Speaking of eggs, you can’t make an omelet without ramming into a few with a van. I followed Carl’s phone GPS signal and caught up to them just as they rammed into someone who mistook the road for a parking lot. He kept on going, but Ground Chuck barely hung on in the back.
By that point, Dead Meat pursued them on his steak bull, backed by a bunch of running turkeys. “Wow, look at the legs on them,” I mentioned to Tricia.
She stopped herself ducking under the console as something exploded. “What was that?”
I sped past the intersection perpendicular to the way they’d headed so I could maneuver around in front of the chase. “If I had to guess, that was a ham mine.” Then I called up Carl. “We just passed behind you. We’re going to loop around to Sycamore here, and I’ll get us set up. Watch your corn hole, man. He’s packing some serious meat behind you.”
I swerved to a stop beside a solid-looking brick building and uploaded my location to Carl’s phone. “Tricia, get the car away. Time for me to play Spider-Gecko.”
My name never derived from being gecko-like in attitude, appearance, or abilities. However, I still picked up one or two tricks that would make a gecko proud. Suction cups, grappling hooks, ropes and anchors…I left it all behind. Instead, I charged and created an energy sheathe around my right arm, then jumped and punched into the wall. It made a nice little hole for me to hang from.
I needed the vertical distance to help me with a little project. In the absence of quick-drying paint, I created a hologram that hid me and instead opened up an alleyway. When Carl pulled up, he hightailed it out of the van and ran into the hologram. Moai followed, carrying Ground Chuck. It appeared they continued on, though they really moved to the side.
They kinda had to with Dead Meat following. He skidded his bull around, the beefy golem snorting bloody mist into the air. Instead of stopping, he justed the skid to drift around and continue his chase.
Right into the fucking wall. First the bull hit it, then the villain atop it smacked into it. He bounced off it and into a pile of steaks from his meat puppet falling apart. The flock of turkeys lost their footing and rolled along, getting quite a lot of distance. Figures. Everyone knows that’s how Butterballs roll.
I let go, dropped it all, and walked over to look at the guy. He had on a firefighter’s outfit, but dark red with black. Firefighter boots, too, though his mask looked like patches of leather sewed together. He had an axe strapped to his back, too. I pulled that out of there. He could hurt someone with that. He might even be able to hurt me. I consider it irresponsible to let a person hold on to something that could hurt me. I tossed it to the side, though. Maybe some lucky kid would find it and use it for all sorts of juvenile hijinks.
That’s important for children. Very educational. Depending on where they swing it, they could learn zoology, biology, and neurology. And if they hit themselves, well, that’s EXTRA educational, isn’t it?
“Is he dead?” Tricia yelled from the car.
“Sax me up good and let’s find out!” I told her, holding out my arm for it. I kept my eyes on Dead Meat, even after Tricia threw my saxophone at me and it bounced off my helmet. I could have caught it, but it seemed funnier that way. Plus, not many people are that good at throwing musical instruments. Heck, even Batman never tossed a bassarang.
It’s just classier to hit someone with an instrument. Even the banging and thudding sounds better.
I bent down, grabbed the sax, and poked the guy to see if he lived up to his namesake literally. “Hey there. Wakey wakey. You alive? I need you alive. I can’t kill you if you’re already dead.”
With that, he awoke and kipped up to his feet. Speaking of feat, most people couldn’t manage that in that kind of outfit.
Didn’t stop me from sweeping his leg out from under him with the sax, then bring it down on his face again and again until he lost consciousness. But still, impressive.
Ground Chuck stepped up behind me and to my right, wringing his hands in front of his immaculately clean smock. “What next?”
I spun around with my arms out wide, knock the Chuckster down and out. “Now, we start the New Year’s fireworks a little early. Alright, let’s tie the villain to the roof. He’s got a flight to catch.” Pointing down to Chuck, I said, “And leave this guy. We don’t need Ground ‘Round anymore. So says me, the big guy, the head cheese of this outfit.”
DM woke up on the ride back, but that’s what ropes, chains, handcuffs, and zip ties are for. That, and BDSM.
Yep, we carried him off to the fireworks warehouse I hid the rockets in. While I settled Dead Meat into his rocket, Carl looked over the other one. “Have you been feedin’ this one, boss?”
“Of course! I left lots of food in there for her.” I slammed the door shut on DM’s rocket and locked it tight. “We had so much tofu left over, I thought it’d be a shame to waste it all.”
Carl and I shared a laugh at that. Moai even pantomimed with us, but remained silent as ever. Silent, but deadly.
Meanwhile, Tricia kept looking around. “Guys, does anyone else feel like we’re not alone in here?”
“I didn’t know you wanted to be alone in here, Trish. Let me just take Carl, Moai, Dead Meat, and Killbasa out so you can be alone like you thought.” I stood between the rockets and adjusted a few settings.
She looked at me unimpressed, holding her tongue between the teeth on the right side of her mouth. “Shut up, you sarcastic ass. I thought I heard something. Are you done?”
“I am now,” I told her. “Now, evacuate to the picnic site!”
The picnic site froze mine and Carl’s nuts off, so instead we were driving back to my place in the car when the rocket’s launched. The nearby fireworks catching on fire made it obvious when Killbasa and Dead Meat lit off and flew into the sky, bound for the North Pole. We got to watch them fly out and knock off a bunch of debris and crap.
It scared a lot of people. Jets even scrambled, but then it got well past the U.S. and Canada, so people around here stopped caring. Oh, I’d make them care…except even though I sent the signal, nothing detonated when the rockets hit land. No big kaboom. How can anyone have fun without an earth-shattering kaboom?
Ok, maybe not that big of a kaboom. I still need to live on this spinning water planet.
Then I got another nasty surprise. Tricia held onto something she definitely shouldn’t have. No, not the Psycho Gecko Theme Park Elevator of Fun, which truly is the most fun place on earth.
“Where did you get that?” I asked her, pulling it out of her grip.
“I found it at the warehouse. I looked around before we left and saw it. Is it some sort of firework mortar or…?” She jumped as I turned and smashed it against my worktable.
“It’s a weapon used by my dear nemesis, Venus.” I said, looking at the broken EMP rod. Then I got to work hunting through it for a tracker. It being there at the warehouse…quickly sent a signal to shut down any detonation sequence. I doubt Venus got any better at disarming things since I last tried to blow stuff up around here, so she probably removed the warheads.
Which meant I nearly blew myself up, too.
Just when I had started to distract myself from dismal holiday tidings, a special delivery of misery landed in my lap like Kathy Bates playing a stripper. Can’t a guy kill people in peace around here?
I didn’t even get to turn the Arctic Circle into a candle in my own personal menorah for the start of this year’s Hanukkah. Maybe that’s for the best. It would have been hard to top that for seven more nights.