Max Rage: Twelve Punches To Mars!

by Jake Bible

“No,” Rage stated.

  “None of you?” Lord Sahndle asked, looking from one member of the team to the other. “Not a one? Well, all of you are in for a treat.”

  “I don’t believe I am, dude,” Rasco said.

  “Lord Sahndle, could you please explain to us what a butt party is?” Scutter asked.

  “Nothing is going in my butt,” Bill said. “Gonna make that clear, man.”

  “Oh, no no no,” Lord Sahndle said. “It is not an insertion event.”

  “No, of course not,” Rage said. “Why would we even think that?”

  “As if, right?” Lord Sahndle laughed. “Surely, Mr. Rage, being an intergalactic man of mystery, you were jesting when you said you did not know what a butt party is.”

  “Surely,” Rage said. “Now, since you are way better with the words, despite my intergalactic mysteriousness, how about you take charge and explain it to these losers.”

  “It would be my honor, Mr. Rage,” Lord Sahndle said.

  He cleared what approximated as a throat for a blob.

  “A butt party is a time-honored tradition at Scorching Dude,” Lord Sahndle explained. “Since showering and bathing is, of course, optional, one’s rectal area or waste hole can become quite fragrant. Now, in the beginning of Scorching Dude, which I was lucky to be a part of—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, how old are you?” Rage asked.

  “A gentleman never asks, Mr. Rage, and a Ghej never tells.” Lord Sahndle snickered. “As I was saying, due to the powerful aromas, many Scorchers were either told to bathe, as if, or were sent below to subterranean levels such as this so others would not be tortured by their lack of anal washing. Again, as if.”

  The team stared. The team waited. Finally, Rage nodded.

  “So, what you are saying, is the people at this butt party we’re smelling have been banished down here until they decide to bathe?” rage asked.

  “Banished? I said no such thing,” Lord Sahndle said. “A butt party is a time-honored tradition.”

  “Yep, you said that. That’s about all you said. Maybe you should spell it out for us. If these folks ain’t been banished, then why are they down here?”

  “Oh, Mr. Rage, have you learned nothing at Scorching Dude?”

  “Nothing butt party related, no.”

  “It’s all about the hierarchy. A hierarchy amongst all races, classes, sub-classes, sub-races, clothing tastes, taste tastes, height, weight, glitter capacity within one’s pelvic region, and…?”

  “And butt smell,” Rage said. “Please tell me a butt party isn’t a bunch of nasty ass folks sniffing each other’s nasty asses.”

  “Uh, well… That is precisely what a butt party is,” Lord Sahndle said, looking very confused. “You are all such strange folk. Very macho and butch, but strange. Perhaps you should consider lightening up a bit and letting yourselves go for your duration of our journey?”

  “No offense, Lord Sahndle,” Scutter said. “But the second we loosen up is the second you die. We just survived an attack and we were fully tightened. You do not want us loose.”

  “Couldn’t agree more,” Rage said. “Rasco? Find us a way around this butt party.”

  “A way around? A WAY AROUND?” Lord Sahndle exclaimed. “There will be no finding of ways around the butt party! They are highly exclusive and rare to stumble upon! I myself have only attended two hundred and forty-one butt parties, which is considered a low number amongst my class. One does not go around a butt party at Scorching Dude, Mr. Rage. That would be unacceptable.”

  “I advise you start figuring out how to accept it,” Rage replied. “We’re skipping the butt party.”

  Lord Sahndle shook with anger. Then began to whistle. The whistle turned into a wail.

  And his blob body started to glow a bright, bright, really, really bright puce. Like really bright.

  “Fucking A! Make him stop with the screeching!” Rage shouted. “And what’s with the glowing, too? Is that normal?”

  “Lord Sahndle!” Scutter shouted. “LORD SAHNDLE! WE WILL GO TO THE BUTT PARTY! DO YOU HEAR ME? WE WILL GO TO THE BUTT PARTY!”

  Lord Sahndle stopped wailing and the glow died down.

  “Lovely,” he said. “Nothing like a proper Sahndle family tantrum to do the trick. My grandmum taught me that particular routine. Did you know that most Ghej families have at least seventeen different tantrums they can utilize when the occasion calls for it? It’s true.”

  “I don’t doubt ya,” Rage said.

  “Shall we move along?” Lord Sahndle asked. “If we’re lucky, we won’t be too late for hors d’oeuvres.”

  “There is no way I am eating anything at a butt party,” Rage said.

  “Oh, but you must!” Lord Sahndle said then laughed. “But you must… My wit has no bounds. Come along!”

  The Ghej skipped off down the corridor. He was a very fast skipper. Rage and the rest had to jog to keep up.

  “Slow down there, Lord Crocs!” Rage shouted as he struggled to keep up.

  The Ghej was moving faster and faster. Sure, he was a really great skipper, but Rage began to suspect something else was going on.

  “Tractor beam!” Rage yelled. “It’s got a lock on Lord Easy Spirit!”

  “Do they make sandals, dude?” Rasco shouted.

  “I don’t know!” Rage said. “I’m running out of brands to mock him with!”

  Rage took aim with his rifle, flipped a switch on the side marked “tackle net” which was pretty self-explanatory, and fired.

  A thin net made of non-slice and dice monofilament raced from the rifle’s barrel and wrapped about Lord Sahndle. A tether was connected to the net and locked securely to Rage’s rifle. He slammed on the brakes, planted his feet, and tugged with all his strength.

  He only managed to slow the Ghej, not stop him.

  “Oh my!” Lord Sahndle yelled. “I do believe I am in need of assistance!”

  “Yeah, we know!” Rage yelled. “Bill! I need your bulk!”

  “On it!” Bill replied.

  The Jamba snatched the rifle out of Rage’s hands and nodded at the still-moving Ghej.

  “I can hold him for a few minutes, but the beam is strong, man!” Bill exclaimed.

  “No shit!” Rage replied. “Scutter! Rasco! On me!”

  The other two members of the team joined Rage as they sprinted to Lord Sahndle. The Ghej’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “You must hurry!” Lord Sahndle said. “I will slip the net easily!”

  “How can you slip the net?” Rage asked as he made sure not to stand toward the front of the Ghej. The tractor beam was invisible and Rage had no intention of accidentally getting caught up in it.

  “I am an invertebrate, Mr. Rage!” Lord Sahndle responded. “See!”

  Part of Lord Sahndle’s jelly blob body squeezed through a portion of the net. Once that happened, it was like an avalanche of Ghej flesh being shoved through a funnel.

  “Shit!” Rage yelled.

  Lord Sahndle was being sucked through the net faster as Bill pulled back with the tether.

  “Give it some play!” Rage yelled. “Bill! Give it some play!”

  “I’m trying, but this beam wants to pull the rifle out of my hands, man!” Bill responded.

  “You have twelve fucking hands! Use all of them!” Rage roared.

  “I am, asshole!”

  “Shit,” Rage muttered. He quickly realized they were fighting a losing battle.

  “Max! You have one job!” Scutter shouted. “Do not let him out of your sight!”

  “Shit!” Rage shouted just as Lord Sahndle was fully sucked out of the net.

  Rage dove and grabbed onto two of the Ghej’s tentacles.

  Then the ride began.

  Fifteen

  “Jesus Christ!” Rage yelled as he and Lord Sahndle were dragged down the dank corridor that was getting danker, and stanker, as the seconds passed by.

  “This is not a butt party! This is not a butt party!” Lord Sahndle ye
lled over and over again as the tractor beam refused to relent.

  The corridor had been illuminated by string lights set along the ceiling, but those lights were few and far between as the nightmare journey continued. In a matter of seconds, all illumination was behind them and Rage was staring into pitch darkness.

  Taking a huge risk, Rage let go of Lord Sahndle with one hand and activated his ocular implant. The corridor lit up as Rage’s night vision protocol kicked in.

  After a couple of confused seconds, Rage almost wished he’d stayed blind.

  “Butthole!” Rage shouted.

  “There is no need for insults, Mr. Rage!” Lord Sahndle shouted back. “I understand that I may be partially to blame for our current circumstances due to my enthusiasm for all things butt party. However, you should know that—”

  “No, you idiot, a literal butthole!” Rage interrupted. “Straight ahead! It’s filling the entire corridor and we’re being dragged right at it!”

  “Oh, a real butthole,” Lord Sahndle replied. “Well, that is unfortunate.”

  “No shit!” Rage yelled. “How the hell is there a giant butthole below Scorching Dude? What is this thing?”

  “What? Mr. Rage, how do you not know of the original settlers of Mars?” Lord Sahndle asked. “A man such as—”

  “Original settlers? You mean Martians?” Rage interrupted.

  “Martians? No, no, no. They became extinct billions and billions of years ago,” Lord Sahndle replied. He coughed and gasped. “Oh, my, that odor is certainly pungent. I cannot believe I didn’t notice before. Certainly too pungent even for a butt party.”

  “Original settlers!” Rage shouted.

  “Oh, yes, my apologies,” Lord Sahndle said and continued. “The first race to reach Mars was not from Earth, Mr. Rage. It was from Centauri Seventeen.”

  “There is no Centauri Seventeen!”

  “Not anymore, no. But several hundred thousand years ago there was. Then the dominant race destroyed the planet’s ecosystem and sucked it dry of all water. Greedy water drinkers, they were. Did you know that Mars was once nothing but vast oceans broken up by polar glaciers and rushing rivers that roared down the massive mountain ranges that crisscrossed the planet?”

  “Nope. Didn’t know that.”

  “Well, it’s true. Until the Sphuncters arrived.”

  Rage sighed. He didn’t want to ask, but he really had no choice.

  “Sphuncters?”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Rage. The Sphuncters. They are a worm race that subsists solely on water. They also have no size limit. The more water they consume, the larger they get. Conversely, if they cannot find water, then they shrink and go dormant.”

  “Good for them! That doesn’t explain why I’m staring at one’s butthole right now!”

  “Well, the entire race went dormant once they sucked Mars dry of all moisture. Then, when colonization began by Earth, water became available again. But not in the quantities they needed. Then Scorching Dude happened. Tunnels and subterranean levels were created. One of those tunnels allowed the dormant Sphuncters to slowly come back to life as errant moisture from above leaked down below.”

  “Still doesn’t explain the giant butthole!”

  “So cheeky. So impatient.”

  “SAHNDLE!”

  “Many Sphuncters tapped into the water supply and grew so large they overtook tunnels like this one! Now there are hundreds of them across the planet that are stuck. Enough moisture reaches them so that they do not shrink, but not enough to sate their incessant thirst. So, they evolved and adapted and figured out that most living beings despite race are made up of majority water. They became predators.”

  “How could they develop tractor beams if they are stuck down here?”

  “Develop…? No, Mr. Rage, this is not a tractor beam. We are not being pulled toward the massive butthole by technology. Sphuncters are powerful telekinetics. We are being pulled to the creature’s butthole by its mind. By its mind, sir! Its mind!”

  “Why do I fucking ask?” Rage mumbled.

  Then they reached the massive butthole and Rage made the wise choice to keep his mouth shut.

  Lord Sahndle and Rage slammed into the puckered flesh then were yanked deep inside. Rage held his breath as they were squeezed through the folded and wrinkled anal skin of the Sphuncter. Rage was expecting moist since Lord Sahndle had continuously said moisture was what the Sphuncters were all about. But the butt was far from moist.

  The Sphuncter sphincter was dry and scratchy. Rage’s T-shirt was scraped off of him until his bare skin was being sanded down layer by layer.

  It was a good thing for Rage that he was genetically engineered and physically enhanced. His healing abilities repaired his skin almost as fast as it was sanded away. Pain, relief. Pain, relief. Over and over.

  Until they finally popped free of the Sphuncter’s sphincter and were deep inside the lower colon of the alien worm.

  Rage’s lungs were ready to burst, but he held his breath. He could survive zero atmosphere for a long while, so an airless intestine wasn’t too much of a stretch. Which was a lie Rage told himself because an airless intestine was a considerable stretch from being tossed out into open space and zero atmosphere. At least in open space there was always a view.

  “Ahhhh,” Lord Sahndle sighed. “That was a most unpleasant journey.” He tittered. “Or should I say, a moist unpleasant journey?”

  Silence.

  “Mr. Rage? You can breathe in here,” Lord Sahndle said. “There is plenty of oxygen.”

  Rage fought the urge, but the agony in his lungs soon became more than he wanted to deal with. And if he was going to get them out of the alien worm’s intestines, he was going to have to breathe.

  Out went the bad air, in came the even badder air.

  “Oh, fuck me running in pink spandex,” Rage said, gasping, coughing, choking, and nearly puking all at the same time from the stench that was worse than anything Rage had experienced.

  And he’d experienced rotting corpse mounds for quite a few years when he was a master chief sergeant major for Earth Corp. Rage wished he was buried inside one of those corpse mounds instead right then. It would have been a million times better.

  “The Sphuncter uses its butthole to catch prey?” Rage asked.

  “What? Oh, well, they only have buttholes. One on each end. That way they can catch food from either direction. Such fast evolution with these Sphuncters. Enviable in a way.”

  “No. No, it’s not enviable. It’s fucking disgusting. Two buttholes? Both used to catch and eat people? Nope. That’s not enviable, Sahndle.”

  “You have stopped mocking my name with footwear brands.”

  “Too busy wanting to slice my nose off to end this torture to bother with the mockery, pal. I need to focus on how to get us out of here. If there are buttholes on each end, and we can breathe inside here, then we should be able to keep going. I still have one dual plasma, laser-guided hot rocket launching, never-empty Axis combat rifle on me.”

  “Um…no.”

  “What do you mean, um…no? Yeah. The rifle is strapped to my back. My shirt is gone, but the rifle stayed.”

  “I meant no to the escaping. Telekinesis, Mr. Rage. If we attempt to exit from the opposite end, we will simply be mentally dragged back inside. As I said, their evolution is enviable.”

  “Still not gonna agree with that shit. No envy. None.”

  Rage sat there in the dark and thought. Even with his ocular implant, the intestine was pitch dark. The sphincter behind them was so tight that not even the least bit of ambient light was allowed through.

  “There is one thing I should mention,” Lord Sahndle said, breaking Rage’s concentration.

  “Is it a useful thing?” Rage asked. “Or is it just more Sphuncter trivia?”

  “Both,” Lord Sahndle replied. “As I am sure you know, all races have their own intestinal biomes that flourish within in order to allow for the proper absorption of nutrients and to f
ight off foreign microbes and parasites, yes? Humans have…what do you call it?”

  “Bacteria,” Rage said, not liking where the conversation was going.

  “Bacteria. Yes,” Lord Sahndle continued. “The Sphuncters have a version of that, too.”

  “Good for them,” Rage said. “Someone should tell them to eat yogurt to keep the bacteria healthy. That it?”

  “No.”

  “Then out with it, Sahndle.”

  “Askerdons.”

  Rage hoped for a split second he had misheard.

  Askerdons were perfectly round aliens with four legs and two arms. They looked like beach balls with limbs. And they enjoyed pissing on everything they could to mark their territory. Their piss was nearly impossible to wash off and if a person was unlucky enough to be victim to the urinary marking then it meant a lot of hot showers and several layers of lost skin before the stink went away.

  Rage hated Askerdons.

  “Did you hear me, Mr. Rage?”

  “Trying to pretend I didn’t. Askerdons?”

  “Askerdons.”

  “How in all the fucks did Askerdons end up inside Sphuncters?” Rage asked then prayed to every intergalactic deity he knew the name of that he’d never, ever have to ask a question like that again.

  “No one knows,” Lord Sahndle replied in a conspiratorial whisper. “But I think it was the Notchas. They always try to ruin a good time.”

  “Notchas? I know the Notchas and they’re one of the few alien races I don’t hate,” Rage said.

  “I’m just saying what I heard, Mr. Rage,” Lord Sahndle responded.

  “Telekinetic alien worms that want to suck us dry. Askerdons that will piss on us until we’ll never be clean again. And I still need to get you to the competition or I’m gonna owe a lot more to Earth Corp than I already do.” Rage growled low in his throat. “Only option is to kill this Sphuncter we’re stuck in. How do I do that?”

  “Kill it? If you try, it will stop you.”

  “Is the fucking thing psychic too?”

  “Well, no, not that I know of. But it does feel pain. As soon as you begin with the killing then it will try to kill you. With its mind.”

  “Then how do I kill it without it knowing it’s about to die?” Rage paused. “It can’t hear us down here, can it? Does it understand languages?”