“Motion to dismiss for lack of standing!” shouted Depoli, confidently. “Gotcha this time!”
“Not so fast,” admonished Judge Tanner. “This one seems to have merit. It’s a basic Constitutional tenant that citizens will not face institutional discrimination. I understand that there are security concerns, but America is bigger than that. My shuttle leaves New Colorado tonight, so starting tomorrow, all spiders will be allowed to board shuttles without Legion interference. Are we done?”
“One last matter, Your Honor – the pending temporary injunction against the upcoming game between the Mariners and Angels,” answered Depoli, visibly shaken by his embarrassing loss. “I cite the same security concerns. Surely the Legion knows best, changing the schedule to a day game. The Americans with Disabilities Act does not trump reasonable security measures. After all, Galactic Disney has been attacked by terrorists three times recently.”
“Night, day, what’s the difference?” argued Sullivan. “What about the growing amount of players who are allergic to sunlight? What about sunspots, solar flares, and skin cancer?”
“Approach the bench,” ordered Judge Tanner. As the attorneys approached, Judge Tanner pounded his gavel. “Not you two idiots! Czerinski! Get your ass up here!”
I reluctantly rose and approached the bench, fearing another contempt of court citation. No matter how careful I am, the haters always find something to complain about. I get bad press. “Your Honor?”
“Who is the smart money betting on?” asked Judge Tanner, in a low conspiratorial voice. “I’m leaning toward the Mariners. I used to live in Tacoma and have a fondness for Northwest teams. Who are you betting on?”
“I haven’t placed a bet, Your Honor. I’m thinking I’ll bet on the Angels and take the points. It will be easy money if Johnny Black can’t play in a day game. I’m all-in at the push of a button if you grant the State’s motion to dismiss.”
“Not likely!” replied Judge Tanner, dismissing me. “After careful and deliberate consideration, I grant the restraining order forbidding the Legion from interfering with baseball schedules. It is not the Court’s place to interfere with the integrity of the game, and it’s illegal to discriminate and not provide reasonable accommodation to sunlight-allergic baseball players, in compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act. Baseball is America’s game. Go Mariners! Let’s play ball!”
Chapter 8
“There’s someone waiting in your office,” advised Major Lopez, all smiles. “What goes around, comes around.”
“What now?” I replied grumpily, emerging from a good night’s sleep in my underground bunker. You can’t be to careful these days. “No one should be left alone in my office!”
“Deal with it.”
I entered, expecting the worst, but it wasn’t so bad. Joey Junior, wearing a Legion private’s uniform, sat in my chair with his feet up on my desk. He smiled and waved with all five fingers. “Hi, Pops! How’s it hanging?”
“A better question is, how did you get in the Legion?” I asked. “You’re underage and need my permission and signature to join up.”
“Got it, Pops. I must have, or I wouldn’t be here. Enlistment ATMs never lie.”
“How’s your mom?”
“She still hates your guts. I think mom joined the Fist and Claw and is off somewhere making bombs, plotting world domination. She’s doing drugs, too.”
“Really?”
“I’m serious. Sometimes I wonder about the older generation. You old folks have no sense at all.”
“I’m glad you’re so well grounded. You met Sergeant Green yet?”
“Oh yeah. That prick hates me already.”
“Don’t worry about it. Sergeant Green hates everyone. Want to go to a ball game?”
“You mean like a father and son going to a game together? Get real, Pops. Who’s the smart money betting on?”
“Call me ‘sir.’ You’re in the Legion now.”
“Yes, sir. Who is the smart money on, sir? Who are you betting on, sir?”
“I’m meeting the Seattle Mariners tonight when they get off the shuttle. Maybe I’ll get some insight into who will win after talking to some of the players.”
“Sure, I’ll tag along to the game. We can catch up on all that quality bonding time we missed out on over the years.”
“Report to Corporal Tonelli for gate duty,” I ordered, tiring of the banter. “Tonelli will square you away and teach you a few tips on how to survive and make something of yourself.”
“How about you teaching me how to survive? What, not on your bucket list?”
“We’ll do it the Legion way now.”
“Thanks, Pops.”
* * * * *
Free food is always a good draw. Humans, spiders, and scorpions all love freebies. Wanting a free lunch is human nature, even for aliens. Hog Butchering Day at Galactic Disney was a success, with long lines to get in. Kids loved the petting zoo. The little pigs were a favorite until they got butchered. A camel someone left in the barn had to be removed – disgusting beasts. Legionnaires strolled leisurely among the crowd, enjoying the civilian contact, but staying alert for terrorists. Maybe nothing would happen.
It was the ever-alert spider bum extraordinaire, Seven-Legs, who noticed the abandoned backpack left under a picnic table. Seven-Legs deftly claw-swiped the backpack without anyone noticing, slinging it over a wall into the not-yet-open beer garden. What an easy score! As Seven-Legs was about to scale the wall to examine his prize, an explosion rocked Galactic Disney.
Families pointed to Seven-Legs. He fled, but legionnaires easily caught the hapless bum. Someone called for a rope, but a quick review of security camera recordings saved Seven-Legs. He was a hero responsible for saving scores of lives from the nail-laden bomb.
Seven-Legs was hoisted up on the shoulders of the crowd, proudly paraded about Galactic Disney. In a nice ceremony, the mayor, Mickey Mouse, presented Seven-Legs the key to the city. Only in America, thought Seven-Legs. The streets are truly paved with pork chops.
‘Speech, speech!’ called out the crowd. The applause died down. Everyone waited to hear the Hero of Galactic Disney speak. “Hi everyone,” started Seven-Legs, tentatively. “Anyone got some spare change?”
Silence followed, disturbed only by the sound of crickets. No one was giving up their change. I blame the economy for such cold-hearted behavior.
“I’ll work for food?”
“A great idea!” called out the United States Galactic Foreign Legion recruitment ATM on several PA system speakers. “A hero like you would be eligible for quite an enlistment bonus. No move eating scraps from the dumpster for you!”
“What?” I immediately objected. “Throw that bum back across the border!”
Sergeant Williams immediately grabbed Seven-Legs, attempting to drag him off the stage. The crowd booed, pressing forward. Scuffles ensued between legionnaires and the public. My communications pad immediately rang. It was General Daly.
“Czerinski! Sign that boy up! The public needs heroes, and so does the Legion. Do it now! Make it so!”
“But he’s a bum!” I argued. “And a spider.”
“And you were so much better when you first enlisted, one step ahead of bounty hunters? I gave you an order. I am not accustomed to repeating myself.”
“Fine!” I fired a shot into the air. Everyone stopped fighting. I led Seven-Legs over to the ATM. “Put your claw on the pad,” I demanded. “It’s just a formality.”
“I don’t want to join the Legion!” shouted Seven-Legs, stubbornly. “I don’t care how much free food I get. I always say I’ll work for food, but I don’t really mean it. You know how the game works, boss. I hold up my work for food sign, you give me spare change.”
“This is your chance to do something worthwhile with your life,” advised the ATM. “Think of the free medical plan. You will even get a brand new prosthetic claw for that unsightly black stub.”
“But then I would have to change
my name. I could no longer be Seven-Legs. Hell no, I won’t go!”
“Criminals like you are allowed to change your name,” advised the ATM. “It’s a Legion tradition.”
“It’s too late,” I explained. “You offered, the Legion accepted. You can’t go AWOL now, or it will be treason, a capital offense.”
“But I’m not even an American citizen. I’m on parole from the Empire. I have Hep C and sand mites!”
“The Legion embraced diversity a long time ago. That’s another Legion tradition. You’re in for the duration!”
I grabbed Seven-Legs’ good claw and forced it to the ATM pad. A pin prick splattered a small droplet of blood on the glass. Seven-Legs’ enlistment contract slid out the slot, along with a jackpot of spare change. Private Seven-Legs was now a proud legionnaire!
* * * * *
At midnight I greeted the Seattle Mariners at the airport. As promised, Joey Junior tagged along. Drunk fans spilled out of the Hog Butchering party to welcome the Mariners, too. I shook each player’s hand as they exited the shuttle ramp until I got to Johnny Black. We just nodded. Joey Junior broke the silence and mad-dog stare. “How’s it hanging, Johnny? I hear you’re a vampire.”
“Who’s this?” asked Black, attempting to push his way past.
I blocked his path and demanded, “Smart money wants to know who to bet on.”
“Smart money always does,” replied Black. “Too bad, so sad. I play to win. You have a problem with that?”
“No,” I answered uneasily. “As long as Seattle wins by more than three points.”
“That’s money in the bank.”
“Welcome back to New Colorado,” I said, shaking Johnny’s cold hand. “Welcome to the New Gobi Desert, where everything pokes, stings, or bites.”
Johnny Black stiffened, his fangs showing for a brief moment as he looked past me, scanning the crowd.
“What?” I asked. “If you’re worried about terrorists, I brought extra security.”
“I thought I saw two scouts for the Evil Empire New York Yankees,” answered Black. “They’re my sworn enemies.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll have all New Yorkers arrested on sight. You can’t lose this game. I’m going all in.”
“Me too,” added Joey Junior, a chip off the old block.
Anita, the gypsy fortuneteller I met earlier, pushed her way though the fans to give Johnny Black a hug and long lingering kiss.
“Hola, lover,” whispered Anita. “Good to see you. Hungry? The night is still young.”
“For you, always,” answered Johnny, nipping at her throat. “You look good. Been working out?”
“You two know each other?” I asked, alarmed. “I was just talking to Johnny about who he thinks will win the game.”
“And you brought your delicious son,” marveled Anita, grasping Joey Junior’s hand for a peek at his lifeline. “He is your spitting image. Such a crooked turn on your palm. This young man is reckless, but will go far if he survives.”
“Should we bet on the Mariners?” asked Joey Junior. “Everyone is all in.”
“Youth is so impatient,” commented Anita, smiling sweetly and caressing Joey Junior’s arm, gently sliding her nails up to his neck. “Never trust the obvious.”
“We have to get going,” I advised, pulling Joey Junior away. “Black, I’ll talk to you again before the game.”
PART II
Chapter 9
Private Randal Telk constantly daydreamed, barely managing his psychosis to escape his mundane life and personality. Seeking change, Telk joined the Legion for fun, travel, and adventure, but his daydreams became borderline disabling. At the firing squad execution, Private Telk did not even fire his weapon. He was dreaming about fishing on the mighty Chao Phraya River for the dreaded Siam River Devil.
Later, on gate guard duty in front of Galactic Disney, Private Telk still daydreamed about floating on a boat, far from reality, in pursuit of the River Devil. In his daydreams, Telk was no longer a lowly private in the Legion, but a man of vast talents and capabilities, a retired big-game hunter enjoying a life of luxury – that is, until a fresh water stingray monster took his brother’s life. Telk declared war on the Siam River Devil. Word spread fast about the white man stalking the Chao Phraya. Those monsters had terrorized the locals for centuries. Now, at last, salvation was at hand.
Telk gazed out across the river, taking a drag on his cigarette, calmly blowing the smoke out his nose. He could feel it. The River Devil knew he was near. The Devil sent one of it’s minions to say hello, a small devil with a wing span of only six feet. The baby devil swam to the river’s edge toward Telk. Its eyes were black as coal, skin a motley gray and brown. Telk kicked the runt in the nose. “Get back home, punk, before you piss me off. And tell your daddy I’m here!”
The baby river monster spun in the water, lashing out with its barbed tail of venomous death, striking at Telk’s quad with a meaty whack. Telk grabbed the tail in a viselike grip as the devil tried to swim away. “Oh, it’s on now, bitch!”
Telk wrestled the slimy beast from the water, the barbed tail still sticking from his leg. The baby devil whimpered in fear. Telk grinned. The game was on – his kind of game! Telk was a natural killer, and killing river monsters was just one of his many talents. But Telk could also be magnanimous. After all, it was just a baby river monster. Deciding to show mercy, Telk broke off its tail, shoved it up the devil’s ass, and throw-skipped the beast across the river. Fifteen bounces – a new record!
“That’s right, bitches, there’s a new sheriff in town, and his name is Randal Telk!”
* * * * *
“Telk! Watch out!” warned Corporal Tonelli as he ducked down a bunker. “Suicide bomber!”
Snapping out of his dream and into the nightmare of reality, Private Telk did not hesitate. As if still on the firing squad, Telk brought up his rifle and fired one shot through the windshield of a truck that just crashed through the outer fence and barriers.
It was a luck shot, instantly killing the spider driver. The truck careened onto its side, slid into a berm, and exploded. The blast flattened the guard shack, showering Telk with shrapnel and glass, burying him with debris.
Corporal Tonelli and Joey Junior quickly dug Telk out. Medic Elena Ceausescu applied bandages to stop bleeding, and started an IV.
“You’re a hero, Telk!” exclaimed Corporal Tonelli. “You saved us all.”
Telk looked up at the lovely Ceausescu. “Will you have sex with me?” he asked, quite delirious. “I could teach you a lot.”
Medic Ceausescu ignored the fool, injecting Telk with an unhealthy amount of pain killer. Telk left reality to a world of dreams more appreciative of his talents.
* * * * *
Telk found that noodling for the river monster bastards gave him the greatest pleasure. There was nothing like reaching down their throats and grabbing those man eaters by the tonsils. Eventually Telk would find the giant that killed his brother.
Word spread, and soon all the major networks wanted to interview Telk. Telk agreed to talk to Yolanda Chang of Fox News, Channel Five World News Tonight. Yolanda was one of only seven or eight beautiful women in the entire world that he had not had sex with yet. Telk would bed the lovely Yolanda by the end of the interview – he was sure of it.
Sexy Yolanda was turned on by Telk. It was obvious when she flashed him. Yolanda wore no panties. “Randal, what got you started on your quest to hunt down the infamous River Devil of Thailand?” she asked, obviously enthralled to be so close to such a man as Randal Telk.
“About three months ago, a river devil ate my brother, swallowing him whole, poor bastard. God rest his soul. Since then, I have been on a mission to even the score.”
Telk motioned to three stingrays mounted on the wall behind. One stingray had an entire rotting cow’s head still in its mouth. A second stingray had the toothy head of a great while shark sticking out. The shark appeared as terrified as the cow. The third ray held a human leg.<
br />
Truly these stingrays were the most dangerous predators on the planet, with the possible exception being Randal Telk. Telk was sure the mere thought of making love with a man of his stature and prowess was enough to make Yolanda’s thighs quiver with excitement.
“Tell me about those horrific monsters on the wall,” continued Yolanda, catching her breath.
“I noodled all three fish out of their evil dens of death. Each was a challenge, nearly killing me. Folks watching on TV, don’t ever try this at home. It’s way too dangerous for amateurs. One wrong move, and – crunch – you’ve lost an arm!”
“What about the stingray with the human leg?” asked Yolanda, clearly impressed. “I sense a story to be told.”
“The leg is from a villager who was trying to help me free an elephant from the jaws of that stingray. I am happy to say that I rescued the elephant, but we lost poor old Yum Phat. God rest his soul.” Telk paused for a moment of respectful silence as he pondered his good friend’s fate.
“Randal, the stingray grasping the shark in its teeth is possibly the most terrifying of all. That shark looks truly scared.”
“He was scared. Sharks normally do not venture up river, fearing fresh water stingrays. That’s a forty-foot great white, and the River Devil sucked him in like an Italian sucking a spaghetti noodle. I had a stingray try that shit on me, too.”
“Oh, my God, what did you do?” asked Yolanda, shocked and appalled. She flashed Telk her bare crotch again. “How did you escape?”
“Well darling, first I kicked that big bastard in the nut sack. I took its upper lip in my teeth and bit the hell out of it. You know how that hurts, right? I got it in my famous fuck-you-very-much headlock and hip-tossed its slippery ass out of the water. Then I climbed on its back. The stingray whimpered for mercy as I grabbed its eye slots, pulling its head back. The stingray’s teeth were snapping like a thousand hungry mouse traps. I punched it in the lower jaw and told it to cut that shit out. The bastard cheated me out of my kill by dying of a heart attack. Damn it, I hate when they puss out.”
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