by Frank Russel
Jack, the sly dog had an idea.
He knew he was Noble Prize material but had something more practical to do.
Go back into time and record the Tsunami and then go back to the future, record it again and then go back to the past to prevent it from happening again.
Does that make sense?
He knew that baby Krackatow was about to collapse, on the west side, which would trigger a tidal wave that would kill those unfortunate holidaymakers on the west coast of Java.
The Sundra Strait, separating Java from Sumatra and a lovely stretch of ocean, was sometimes a tempestuous bitch.
If not managed, this stretch of water could cause untold deaths like after the explosion of Krakatoa in the 1880s.
'Not on my shift,' said Jack, who mobilized his team.
'We saved them from flooding.'
The nets worked and West Java celebrated Christmas.
Jack had a heart of gold.
He had saved many lives too.
And he wanted his brother Frank to have a good Christmas too.
'So here is a ticket to Manila,' he said.
That's what he said.
And I was out if here before you could say, Jack Robinson.
I was just in time to see the Christmas Bunnies.
Wasn't Manila famous for it?
I was peering down at the bubbling slopes of Baby Krakatoa.
Steam was rising from the depths of the ocean and the water was a muddy primordial soup.
It had been growing at ten feet a year for the past twenty years.
It was building up and wanted to let off some steam.
Even I could see that.
'Now that's better,' said Jack, who moved the luxury cruise boat closer towards the shore on the west side.
'Not too fucking close,' I said and threw a cigarette in the water that was instantly sucked under water.
Jack caught on to the danger and quickly reversed the monster cruise boat that was on loan from the CIA.
Krakatoa was a constant comfort for the inhabitants of West Java.
They knew it's power.
Out of the ashes of the last explosion, grew baby Krakatoa.
But there was nothing baby about it.
As the seagull flies, it was only forty kilometers from Krakatoa to land.
On this particular Saturday night, Miss Indonesia Big Tits Bikini contest was underway at Tanjung Lesung Beach Resort.
Jack and Frank worked in earnest dropping out the nets with the explosives attached to them, every twenty meters.
A few hours later, the boat cruised towards shore.
They moored outside a resort.
The water was dead still.
Something was up.
But those revelers partying around the pool had no idea that at about 9.31 pm that a tidal wave was going to gatecrash their party.
As we left Krakatoa, giant plumes of steam erupted from under the water.
I told Jack it was obvious that magma was flowing into the Mariana Trench, and something had to give.
'Lucky we put those drag nets out.'
We had covered about 50 kilometers of them, which we figured would cover most of the vulnerable beaches on this part of Java.
'You can't alter the fabric of time,' said Jack, putting on a good Emmett Brown rendition.
The full moon was pulling at us in ways that weren't normal.
We had left listening devices in the water near baby Krakatoa and we had a live webcam feed of the bubbling cauldron.
We also had aerial feeds from one of our satellites.
'You mean the CIA's,' said Jack, always a stickler for facts.
There's always Euro Trash at these kinda pool parties.
Big tits bring them out.
They are usually well tanned, slim and faces hardened from too much drug taking.
But they make up for it with designer clothes and expensive jewelry.
Frank had an ax to grind, no doubt about it.
He and Jack had agreed to press the Time Travel Button, 'will be less fuss than taking the Delorean.'
'And easier to get out of 'Flood Town' the moment the wave tumbles on down,' said Frank who had predicted what the outcome would be.
He'd also be filming right up to the moment the tidal wave gatecrashed the party.
'It should be superb footage to show the Doubting Thomas's later,' said Jack.
'It should endear us with the big-titted babes too,' added Frank.
Yes, they were both on the same page.
'Frank, it's a lost cause, you can't turn back time.'
'I know Jack, but let's give it a go, if we can save a few lives, then won't it be worth it?
Then Frank pressed The Time Travel Button and he was at the poolside party.
The giant wave was still five minutes away and Frank found a prime position and started filming the pool party.
A band was set up on the beach end.
An Indonesian band was belting out tunes.
They called themselves '18'.
The drummer looked like Dave Grohl and the lead singer had the swagger of a pop star.
The big tits circulating the pool party were a guarantee that the bar would be making a phenomenal profit.
Some called this Java mysticism, other's called it capitalism at it's rawest.
Jack relayed from the boat, he was now parked outside of Krakotao again, where he knew the boat would be safe.
'It's rumbling bad, the wave is on its way, could you feel the shock wave,' he asked.
An Indonesian with dyed blonde hair, wearing gold color bikinis, rubbed her assets against Frank. She was fishing for a big tip. Most of the Euro Trash were handing out hundred dollars US notes for titty rubs.
'Not yet, but I'm filming and will press myself back to the future the moment the big wave cascades on us.'
Frank had a word with the swimwear models.
'I've got a boat parked at the beach and I'll pay you each 1000 dollars US to go for a spin with me.'
Jack wasn't aware of this plan but he knew with Frank, anything could happen.
Frank had the massive speed boat moored outside the resort.
It could reach very fast speeds and was very helpful on the last mission.
Ten of the hottest girls Indonesia could grow were all for it.
'You can't change the fabric of time,' said Jack.
Frank loved the movie Back to the Future but realized it was just a little piece of escapism.
He was a realist he said, as he escorted the girls on the boat.
Then off they sped, towards Krakatoa, and a few minutes later, Jack saw his brother.
'The little devil,' he thought, as he detonated the nets and dispersed the tidal wave back out to sea towards the Indian ocean.
It was a gentle swell, and Frank said the party should begin in earnest, once he handed out the hard cash to the contestants of Miss Indonesia Big Tits.
What a story, hay?
'Couldn't have done without your help,' said Max, who was the driver of the monster speedboat.
This was a wrap, in so many ways.
The Ministry of Mitigation thanked us from the bottom of their hearts.
The big titted whores they had recruited for the pool party had collected enough information on the Euro Trash drug dealers who were given a quiet burial out at sea.
We found a nearby island, a veritable paradise and set up camp at the beach.
A white marquee on an untouched tropical beach, cold champagne on ice, fresh oysters, hot Indo babes, this was really going to be a doozy.
The party went on in earnest.
'You like Earnest, don't you,' said Jack.
I liked the village of Sweet Smelling Water.
And I called the Apache pilot who picked us up.
Staff from the Ministry of Mitigation wanted to take care of the two boats. I said don't bother,' they can pilot themselves easily enough through the onboard GPRS system.'
; If we weren't highly respected by that secretive organization, we would be now.
Within an hour, we were back in East Java.
We dropped off some of the girls, and a few volunteered to continue partying at the Blue Lagoon.
It was an emotional roller coaster, in some ways, and the team needed recharging their batteries.
'Now how the fuck do you intend to do that,' asked Max.
I had an idea.
It was a silly idea but it would get our juices pumping again.
Mandy and Candy were into it too.
They both were wearing gold bikinis.
And they knew what boys liked.
'Big tits,' they said in chorus.
Jember.
Oh, Jember my Darling.
South of it, were the cannibal blackfellas.
North, the Industrious chinks.
'Now the secret is to run over the bridge before the train comes.'
Max was listening carefully. He'd want to be.
The bridges were made of wood.
Below us, a drop of two hundred feet.
I could hear the whistle of a train.
Could the driver see us two larrikins walking over a dilapidated bridge?
I knew I couldn't hang off the bridge if train barreled down on us like a fucking freight train.
I was just too fucking heavy for that kinda heroic shit.
The trains didn't muck around in Java.
The Dutch built the bridges and the railway lines over a century ago and the Javanese reasoning was that if the 'white's built it then, it still should function very well without any maintenance.
The green of the forest threatened to envelop us. The blue sky above lulled us.
And the train was coming down hard on us.
A sleeper broke under my foot and lazily dropped into the torrent of a river below.
Two seconds, I said to Max, that's all we fucking have.
He was a meter ahead of me and just jumped off the railway line into the sloping bank of the river. .
I followed.
It was a shallow fall broken by lush grass and water.
And the train whizzed by, blowing its fucking whistle.
Trainspotting, now that's how it's fucking done, I said.
'Now let's get back to Jember and sniff out some skank,' I added.
I could tell Max was shaken up but full of life juices.
Racing against trains tended to put things in perspective pretty well fast.
Mandy and Candy were conjoined twins.
'We never do anything alone,' said Mandy.
Candy gave a sweet smile in recognition.
They were born and bred Indonesians, with a strong strain of Dutch DNA in them.
'How the fuck do you know that,' asked Max.
'Just look at their big fucking bazookas,' I said, adding,' and look at the Thai DNA pool, total flat chested.'
This biology lesson was about to be brought forward, I was hoping.
Mandy had blonde hair while Candy had pink hair.
They were showgirls, after all, working the karaoke circuit in Jakarta and making guest appearances on the variety TV shows.
We had done the missions.
We had fucked the whores.
And we snorted some.
What was next?
'We've righted a few wrongs,' I said to Jack who asked me if I got that line from Bruce Almighty, then he patted me on the back after I nodded in the affirmative.
'So don't be so hard on yourself, ' he added.
We all had these moments of self-doubt.
Sometimes a sympathetic pair of tits usually sorted out the passing cloud of doubt.
Candy and Mandy obliged.
Their headlights redefined the word 'fun' bags.
'More like fantastic bags,' asked Max.
Something like that.
I was feeling better.
I was reaching quota and I could feel another mission coming on.
'Funny you say that,' said Jack, ' we might just have a choice one for you.'
Apparently Stan and Kumar were still in the region and trying to muscle into CIA activities.
Damned if they were going to tamper with our counterfeit cottage industries all over Asia.
'You make sure they don't,' said Jack.
With that statement, me and Max were on the move again.
This time it was back to the Philipines and a place called Angeles.
Stan and Kumar moved to Manila.
They had fleeced most of the sex tourists in Angeles City and to avoid raising suspicion, they moved their operations to the capital.
They had bags of cash.
The Fraud Squad asked me personally to take care of it.
I said it wouldn't be hard to figure out.
All I had to do was fine a street where sex tourists hung out.
There'd be some deduction but I had a hunch.
My standing in the Philipines would be cemented once I sorted out these fraudsters.
It wasn't skimming we were dealing with.
It was something far simpler and effective.
'What do think it is then?' asked Max.
Should I drag this one out or just come clean?
'Spit it out,' said Max.
'Look up there,' I said, pointing to a short time rented room which was opposite a very busy ATM.
The casino attracted them all, I should know.
'And I think Kumar and Stan are up there taking photos of withdrawals with a long lens.'
But how can they do phantom withdrawals, asked Max?
'You will see," I said. I wanted to give Kumar and Stan enough rope to hang themselves.
'No time for that,' said the Fraud Squad.
Ok, I said, Ok, raid them now.
Stan and Kumar were cloning cards and withdrawing cash at every ATM in the city.
They were pretty busy.
'And they'd be spending a long time in jail,' said Max.
'Not on our shift' said the Fraud Squad, who recently disposed of Eastern European skimmers in Manila Bay.
'Were they floaters?' I asked.
'No,' said the Fraud Squad, 'they sank like stones after we fired bullets into them.'
They didn't muck around in the Philipines.
And they didn't take lightly foreigners fucking with their biggest industry, whorism.
Everyone should have the right to whore.
And Max and I were just doing our duty.
'Spare us,' said Stan and Kumar.
'Hand over the cash then, ' I said.
I really didn't need to say that.
Inside their hotel room was bags of the stuff.
It was divided up between us and the Fraud Squad.
Some missions are easier than others.
This was one was a cinch.
'You'll die for your treason,' said Stan.
'Not on my shift,' I said.
Kumar wanted to play ball.
'Release him,' I said.
The Fraud Squad were compliant.
Now what were we going to do with Stan?
'I'll sort him out,' said Suying, that Chinese assassin.
She was also sent after the fraudsters who fleeced the Chinese last month.
Stan would need all the charm in the world to survive her.
Chris and his wife were doing very well down at Manila Bay.
'Here you go,' said Frank, who dropped a few duffel bags of cash on the table.
Chris didn't ask where the money came from.
Chris already knew.
He was from the Fraud Squad.
Playing the vagrant down at Manila Bay was the best way to penetrate the mostly western tourists.
'And you don't think I don't know that cocksucker?'
Then Frank winked to tone down the message that he thought Chris a deceitful and sly bastard while at the same time admiring him for keeping to his cover.
'Don't you think its time we start working
together? asked Frank.
'Isn't that what we have been doing,' replied Chris.
Frank sat on his coffee, thoughtfully.
'I could have you locked up months ago, Frank, but I believed in you. You had nothing to your name but still gave the shirt off your back.'
Chris was wearing a colorful Hawai shirt. Frank gave it to him after he was fleeced by a big titted whore he met at LA Cafe.
The two went way back.
'You fucking wish you worked for the Fraud Squad,' said Frank who munched on some fresh croissants cooked in the kitchen.
'And if you play your cards right,' added Frank, who took a swig of fresh orange juice laid out on the table, with a spread of eggs and bacon and toast, 'I might recruit you for Big Tit's Inc.'
Chris knew where Frank was heading with this.
They always beat around the bush, making up as much bullshit as they could before getting to the point.
Then she walked into the Cafe.
She was a show stopper....
Frank's tongue dropped. Drool followed.
'She's fucking hired,' he said, before even introducing himself to the drop-dead gorgeous Asian babe.
Her name was Rebecca.
I always melted at the sound of the Philipino accent.
It was an American accent bastardized with the soft lilt of islands lost in an archipelago of passion and poverty.
As cliche as this may sound...
Rebecca moved towards me, eyeing off the money on the table, large denominations of pesos were trying to muscle themselves out of the bag, and that seemed to get the Cebu born beauty into a frenzy of sexuality, then she hugged me.
She was wearing those black leotards, popular with Asians who had the booty that knew exactly how to fill them out - no folds of fat, maybe just a very defined camel toe.
Rebecca was wearing a black t-shirt. The cotton hugged her contours. Up close, it was like being among the Himalayas, from afar, you knew you just had to get closer to discover those twin peaks that were begging to be explored.
'Nice to meet you Rebecca.'
I was eyeing her up from a few feet away.
'You wanted me to hug you?'
'Well Rebecca, I'd be in denial if I said I didn't.'
'Well come here then Frank.'
I did as I was told.
Then Max entered.
He was tieing up a few loose ends.
'She's perfect, hired on the spot.'
Rebecca let out a giggle.
Then Max poured the cash over her luscious body.