As we approached the holidays, I made sure to add a sign to the outside of the former gas station I holed up in. “Not at home to anthropomorphic personifications related to holidays. Trespassers will be violated, canned, groped, defenestrated, defecated, deafened, and smacked with a tuna.”
Behind me, Carl explained the necessity of the sign before the ardent reporter hanging with us could even ask. “The boss got caught up in the holidays last year, and the year before, but I was only here for last year. We found Baby New Year and fought robots. The year before that, Boss had to beat up a giant spider man.”
I leaned my head against the door. I had a bad day. I felt like something wanted to attack me at any moment. I was anxious, antsy. I watched everything, listened to everything. I’d clenched my jaw so much it wouldn’t stop hurting. “Not a giant spider man,” I interjected. “A giant spider, called Spider, who disguises himself as a man. He and this guy with nothing on his head but a bunch of disappearing-reappearing mouths planned to capture Santa.”
Tricia started to laugh at that. “Santa’s real and you saved him?”
I sighed and kept my eyes shut. “An anthropomorphic personification of the spirit of the season. Probably just appears as the predominant figure of the cultural holiday. If we were Romans, he’d have looked like Saturn.”
“Gecko, I never expected you to be friends with Captain Planet.”
I glanced over at Tricia, analyzing her for weaknesses and strengths to account for when attacking. Then I shook my head, “Tricia, that joke stunk like Uranus.”
She smiled at me. “If we’re talking planets, how about you tell me what things are like between you and Venus? There’s a lot of passion there.”
I rolled my eye. “Not that kind of passion. I’m the Daffy Duck to her Bugs Bunny. We like to hit each other with stuff. It’s all very psychological.”
“Hitting each other is psychological?” she asked, eyebrow rising.
I walked over and put my leg on the table next to her, incidentally giving her a view of Psycho Anaconda. “Hitting each other with stuff. Trust me, it’s important to get into a person’s head when assaulting them with an unconventional weapon.”
“You’re bullshitting me again, aren’t you?” she asked.
Fed up, I grabbed a thawing tuna off the stand by the door and smacked her in the face with it. “You have to think about the demoralizing effects of various objects. Fish, for instance, are unpleasant due to smell. Whereas shellfish,” I grabbed a dead crab and bopped her in the other cheek with it. “are a lot more alien looking, and unpleasant close up with their legs and antennae.” Then I turned off the lights remotely and grabbed a different aquatic animal.
I had to shove some wires in it just right, but I thought the result was worth it. “And let’s not forget our old friend…Mr. Angler Fish!” The fish’s glow bulb illuminated its fangy maw right in front of Tricia’s face, causing her to scream and run for it. Not wanting her to trip and hurt herself, I chased after her with the fish lighting our way. The pursuit ended whens he locked herself in the women’s room, so I grabbed some spare cable around the place and left Mr. Angler Fish hanging outside the door in case she felt like leaving.
Then I turned toward Moai and Carl. “Well, that actually felt pretty good. I think I’m going to go out and hurt some people, right after I cut these hands off and replace them with a pair that don’t have the malicious stink of fish on them.”
Relax, I didn’t cut my hands off. Too difficult to by myself, and I didn’t feel like asking for a hand. That didn’t prevent Moai and Carl from coming along after I threw on my armor and Carl grabbed some earplugs. I had the sax with me.
I made good use of it on my first stop: Central Park. The snowy winter wonderland featured fun for all. I projected myself as another innocent civilian so as not to scare off my prey. Carl bundled up too, and Moai wore a top hat and fur coat to remain inconspicuous. That dude blended in with style.
The ice skaters on the lakes and ponds appealed to me the most, so I stopped by to serenade them. I must have played a B Flat, because that’s what everyone nearby did once the vertigo note hit. Well, everyone but me and my guys.
Everyone should trip up an ice skater at least once, preferably with a slide whistle ready to make it really funny. In my case, I slid out next to this professional looking young girl and sounded off with a “Bwa bwa bwaaaaaa!”
It was then that an officer approached, yelling at me for some reason. The poor, innocent-looking man with the crimson Mohawk, chrome skull nose ring, and a coat that read “I ate babies” on the back.
What? Just because a guy hates babies doesn’t mean he’s the obvious criminals. I-…ooooooh. I forgot the “h” on the back of the jacket. I suppose eating babies does come across as pretty mean. Did anyone think to ask if I meant baby cows or baby chickens instead of baby humans? If people go around shooting at everyone who ate eggs, there’d be dead bodies everywhere, scarring kids for life.
Think of the children! The tender, delicious children. Mmmm.
Well he didn’t shoot at me automatically, because I chose to be white. If at all possible, criminals should be white. There’s a much higher survival rate. Not so much for any black bystanders nearby, but if it came down to me or them, I’d rather not have to repair the tiny scratches on my bullet-proof power armor.
But this time, I wanted some fun, so I whispered over the comms to Moai and Carl that I wanted this guy. Not like that, dirty readers.
I wound up staying in one place as I tried to run, like a cartoon character or a man in regular shoes on ice. At least I got traction before the cop could waddle out onto the ice after me. I headed for a nearby patch of trees and dove behind one.
When the officer came running over, huffing steam into the air, he looked around the trees for me, then checked out to see if I’d run anywhere else. As thin as the tree was, I slipped into invisibility rather than test my mettle with wood. The cop stood right next to the tree I hid behind, so I quickly grabbed a branch reaching out behind his back. I gave it a quick pull and released, knocking him in the back of the head. He turned around and pulled his taser, trying to find what hit him. He saw the branch, but not the cause.
He ducked under it as he moved to view the other side of the tree. But the branch still hung behind his head. Fwap! He fell for it again, just not as literally as the skaters. Again, he turned, but this time he lingered with his taser pointed a the branch. When he checked around, he made sure to head to the opposite side of the tree, where there was no branch to molest him. It surprised him when a pile of snow fell on his head. He turned. The branch had snow on it. Guys, the BRANCH HAD SNOW ON IT! Dun dun duuuuun!
I like to think I had him ready to shoot that tree when he noticed the footprints in the snow. Damn snow! It made an obvious counter to my stealth abilities. Before he could realize I wasn’t your average guy with a sax that somehow makes people fall over, I reappeared and jumped out as if from behind the tree. I threw a snowball in mid dive, knocking the taser from his hands.
I hit the ground, rolled, and scooped up more snow for another ball. The cop was quick, but not quick enough for me and my balls. The second one smacked the pistol from his hand. He pulled his night stick, but kept it too close to his body to snipe. “You’re in trouble now. I’m going to get you for assaulting an officer.”
I think I made him angry.
“Now, that’s not fair, officer. If you’re going to charge me with assaulting you, at least give me a chance to assault you. Come on, you and me, boxing, right here, right now. First guy to punch the crap out of the other guy wins.” I stood up, brushing snow from my gloves.
At first, he raised the baton. He wanted to hit me with it and be done. Then he lowered it and grinned. “Alright, smart guy. I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Ha!” I said. “Then I’ll tell you what I told your momma last night: it’s ok to cry, nobody enjoys this.”
The cop dropped the night stick and charged at me, ready to waste a punch on my face. I held out my hands. “STOP!”
He skidded to a stop. “What for?”
“We need to go over the ground rules. This is a boxing match, so we have to act civilized. It wouldn’t very much do for this to become barbaric, would it? Your superiors may suspect brutality.” I stepped closer.
“So none of this!” I poked him in the eyes. He held his hands over his eyes, leaving himself wide open. “And nothing like this!” I kicked him in the shin. He bent over, using one hand to hold his leg. “Of course, this would be unsportsmanlike.” I said as I reached for his chest and gave him hard pinches in the nipple region. “It goes without saying that you probably shouldn’t hit me here.” I grabbed his arm and punched it just on the back corner. Why is it that it’s never funny to hit your funny bone?
Then I laid my hands on his shoulders, “Last but not least, you should never, ever hit a guy in these.” I rammed my knee into his balls, causing him to squeak in pain.
I stepped back and put my hands up like a boxer. “Alright, let’s begin!” He fell over slowly. I just looked at my fists, blew off my knuckles, and said, “I still got it.”
When I found Carl, he had built an enormous snowman with a top hat on it. “Feeling better, Boss?” he asked.
I nodded. “You know, I do. I should do that again, with a bit more anal penetration. Anyway, let’s grab Moai and get out of here.”
When we tried to go, the snowman stood up and followed. That’s when I recognized the top hat on it, which prompted me to sing. “There must have been some magic in that sky cocaine Carl found, because when he placed it on Moai’s head, he began to shuffle around. Oh, Moai the Snowman…”