Dick by Law

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  "You're a dead man!" Quinn, in his black pinstriped suit, carrying a briefcase in one hand, looked like he'd just come from court. Marching up to Simon with a furious look on his face, he jabbed him hard in the chest with a forefinger. "Dead man walking!"

  Simon winced and flinched. "What brought this on? What's the deal?"

  "Where were you?" said Quinn. "Jim Lassiter waited half an hour for you to show up!"

  "Lassiter, Lassiter..." Simon dropped his travel bags on the floor as he struggled to make the connection.

  "Sarsaparilla Slim, remember?" Quinn snapped off his gold-rimmed glasses and glared. "The guy I introduced you to at the Cowboy Action shootout? The guy who's hiring you to appraise his mother's estate?"

  Suddenly, it all fell together. Simon went pale. "Oh, shit."

  "Way to not show up, bro!" said Quinn. "I'm this close to losing his business because of you!"

  Simon buried his face in his hands. "I completely forgot!"

  "Jim is pissed," said Quinn. "He said something about filling you with hot lead."

  Simon looked out from between his fingers. "Can we do it this afternoon?"

  "That's beside the point!" Quinn shook his glasses at Simon. "You keep dropping the ball! You've got too many dick-stractions!"

  Simon shrugged. "I've been busy."

  "It's nothing but dick-this and dick-that with you," said Quinn. "I'm almost sorry I helped you win the lawsuit!"

  "I'm just trying to make the most of it," said Simon. "Striking while the iron's hot. All the interest will go away if we lose on appeal."

  "Which is exactly why you have to look after your livelihood." Quinn snapped his glasses back on with a vengeance. "Because when the spotlight goes away, you'll need to have your business to fall back on."

  "You're right." Simon nodded. "I'm sorry. Ishi and I just got home from New York, and I have a big meeting in fifteen minutes, and..."

  Just then, Chip pushed through the front door behind him, armed with giant cups of coffee in a pressed cardboard cup holder tray. "Make that five minutes! They just pulled in the driveway!"

  "Shit!" Simon looked around frantically, heart pounding like crazy.

  Suddenly, Josie burst through the front door. "Fire in the hole, boss! Lock and load!"

  Quinn still scowled, but curiosity seemed to be getting the better of his anger. "Who's this big meeting with?"

  "Buck Brooklyn, the head of D.I.L.L." Simon hurried past Quinn, aiming for the bathroom down the hall. "The Dick Identification and Legislation League."

  "She's coming!" Before Simon could reach the bathroom, Ankha darted through the front door and headed him off. "Ishi's walking her in!"

  As the bathroom door slammed shut in his face, Simon spun and marched into the bedroom. Still shouting at Quinn, he went straight for the mirror and grabbed a brush from the dresser below it. "She wants to talk about some bill they're trying to get passed."

  Quinn had followed him from the living room and appeared in the bedroom doorway. "Buck Brooklyn's a she?"

  "Don't you watch the talk shows? She's been making the rounds." Simon dragged the brush through his sandy hair, then fluffed his bangs with his fingers. "So do you think Jim Lassiter will see me this afternoon?"

  Quinn sighed and folded his arms over his chest. "I already made you an appointment for three o'clock. And I will drag you there if I have to."

  Simon dropped the brush on the dresser and straightened the collar of his rumpled white polo shirt. "Thanks for looking out for me, bro. I appreciate it."

  Quinn shrugged. "I can't blame you for striking while the iron's hot. Just don't burn your bridges along the way."

  "Promise." Simon clapped his hands and swept out the door with Quinn in his wake. "Now come on! I think you'll like this!"

  When Simon and Quinn bolted into the living room, Buck Brooklyn was waiting for them. Both men froze in their tracks and stared.

  Simon had seen her on T.V. before, never in person...but T.V. had not done her justice. She was truly breathtaking, as mesmerizingly tall and perfectly put together as a movie star or supermodel. As much in love as Simon was with Ishi, Buck's startling good looks were enough to leave him dazed.

  "Hello, Simon." Buck tossed her long red hair and smiled radiantly. "And this must be the famous Quinn Keegan." She smoothed the sleek emerald dress over her hips and reached out a hand. "You're a hero to our movement, Mr. Keegan."

  Quinn took her hand...and in a move that was totally unlike him, he kissed it. "Enchanté, Ms. Brooklyn. It's my pleasure."

  Simon gaped. He'd never seen his straight-laced foster brother kiss a woman's hand before.

  Buck cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "I can see why you won the impossible lawsuit, Mr. Keegan. Your charm is most persuasive."

  "Please." Quinn bowed his head. "Call me Quinn."

  "Only if you call me Buck." She gave him a wink, then nodded at Simon. "You too, Simon."

  Grinning, Simon gestured at the sofa and chairs. "Have a seat, Buck. Can I get you anything?"

  Buck sat down on the sofa, and Quinn sat beside her. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her.

  "Actually, there is one thing you can offer," said Buck. "We'd like you to support the new dick registration bill. It goes before Congress next month."

  Simon sat on the recliner. "What's this bill all about?" he said.

  "It would create a national dick registry." Buck leaned back and crossed her left leg over her right. "Everyone convicted of being a dick would have to register. It would be accessible to the public, so no one would have to be victimized by a registered dick ever again."

  "Interesting," said Quinn.

  "We'd like to call it 'Simon's Law,'" said Buck. "If it becomes law, of course. And with your blessing."

  Simon shrugged. "I don't know what good my blessing would do. I don't have any pull in Congress."

  "But you're the most visible face of the movement," said Buck. "And getting Simon's Law passed isn't the only reason we want you lobbying on Capitol Hill."

  Simon frowned and leaned forward. "What's the other reason?"

  "We don't just want you to lobby on Capitol Hill," said Buck. "We want you to run for office."

  Simon chuckled. "Good one, Buck. Run away from office, maybe..."

  "I'm quite serious," said Buck. "How does 'Congressman Bellerophon' grab you?"

  Simon laughed again. "Me? In politics? No way!"

  Buck nodded serenely. "Yes, way."

  "Hold on a minute." Quinn leaned closer to Buck. "Do you really think he's electable?"

  "He has promise." Buck tipped her head back and gave Simon the once-over. "He has charisma, and he's in the public eye. He stands for something. He could go places, in time, if he builds on all that."

  "I'm no politician. Run him." He pointed at Quinn.

  "So you've never had any political aspirations?" Buck's tone was coy, her eyes dancing. "Never wanted to get in there and make the world a better place?"

  "I don't need to run for office to do that," said Simon. "My brother Quinn, on the other hand..."

  "Could run your campaign." Buck laid a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "You've already established that you make a great team."

  Quinn beamed, visibly loving the physical contact. "That's true."

  Simon shook his head. "I'll do what I can to support the bill, but don't expect me to get into politics."

  "Aw, come on, boss," said Josie, who was peeking around the corner from the kitchen. Chip and Ankha popped their heads up beside her, grinning like idiots. Simon had forgotten they were in the house at all, and here they'd been listening to the whole conversation like kids listening in on a grown-up party.

  "You'd make a great congressman," said Ankha. "With a little coaching from us, of course."

  "Go for it, dude." Chip shook his hands in the air like a rock star, index and pinky fingers extended like devil's horns. "Think of the power."

  "Think of the chicks," said Josie.

  "Think of w
hat you can accomplish," said Buck. "Spend some time on the Hill, see what happens with Simon's Law, and go from there. You might be surprised."

  Simon thought about it, imagining the good he could do as a crusading politician. The Lone Appraiser in him couldn't resist.

  "Okay." Simon nodded. "Sign me up."

  "Woo-hoo, Boss!" shouted Josie.

  "Next stop, the White House!" said Chip.

  "What do you think the bill's chances are?" said Quinn.

  "Honestly? It's an uphill battle." Buck shrugged. "But I like a good fight. And once we trot out the anti-dick crusader himself, who knows?"

  "So when do we start?" said Simon.

  "Trotting you out?" Buck smiled. "We'd like to take you on tour. Like the Rolling Stones, but no Mick."

  "And no dicks, either!" said Chip.

  "And it'll be a lecture tour, not concerts," said Buck. "But I think it'll still rock."

  "Call it Dickapalooza!" said Chip. "We'll sell t-shirts!"

  "Lecture tour, huh?" said Simon. "How long do I have to get ready?"

  Buck raised two fingers. "Two days. Can do?"

  "Why not?" Simon laughed and spread his arms wide, giving her two thumbs up. "Can do!"

  *****

  Chapter 25

  Two Days Later

  Belle Mere, Pennsylvania

  At first, Simon had no idea that the very first lecture of his tour was going to turn into a train wreck. As he stood onstage in front of seven-hundred-some students at Belle Mere College, he had no clue he was racing toward a pivotal moment.

  He didn't realize he was heading for the moment when everything would start to go wrong for him.

  Oblivious to the impending crash, Simon paced the stage and savored his latest leap into the spotlight. He felt like a star as he gazed out at the sea of responsive young faces, all in their late teens or early twenties. It was like a rock concert after all, at least a little...at least to him. Lecturing, even at a small rural school like Belle Mere, barely an hour away from Melville, was a thrill.

  Ishi felt the same way. Though she wasn't there now because she had a sketch artist gig in court, she'd sent him off like a real rock star that morning.

  He felt like he could do no wrong.

  "...and that's why I think we need the dick registration act." As Simon said it, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. "We need to stop the dicks from terrorizing us without fear of consequence. We need to restore civility to civilization." The crowd clapped louder. "We need to expose the face of the enemy." With that, every person in the audience shot from their seats to join the standing ovation.

  Almost every person joined the ovation, that is.

  At first, Simon was too busy basking in the love fest to notice anyone breaking from the herd. He didn't spot the three guys and one girl moving toward the stage, two from each of the front corners of the audience.

  He didn't notice them until they were right in front of the stage, and by then it was too late.

  Looking down, Simon saw the two guys to the right of him first. They both wore sunglasses, white ball caps, and zippered red track suits with white piping...and they both had big pot bellies. In fact, the other two breakaways had the same kind of bellies, along with identical caps, sunglasses, and track suits. Simon's first thought was that they were part of some kind of sports team.

  But he changed his mind when he saw the one guy's belly move. It didn't just shift a little as he walked, it squirmed. And it kept squirming as Simon watched.

  Alarms went off in Simon's head, but it was too late. As he stood there, gaping at the guy's squirming belly under the track suit, an unexpected sound filtered over the cheers and applause...the sound of something ripping apart.

  The sound was coming from directly above him.

  When the ripping noise crackled overhead, Simon looked straight up. Squinting into the lighting grid, he saw what looked like a huge burlap sack hanging among the rafters. A thin seam opened up along the bottom of the sack as Simon watched, and some kind of tiny particles trickled out.

  The particles pattered onto the stage around him like sand. Simon shielded his eyes, quickly realizing he had to get away...but the burlap sack let go before he could take a step. He barely managed to duck as the sackful of sandy stuff dumped over him from above, falling in a great, dusty cascade.

  The particles stung as they pelted his head, neck, and shoulders. He kept his eyes pinched tightly shut and held his breath against the acrid dust, but he still swallowed enough that it made him choke.

  Then, with a last rattling trickle, the worst of the shower was over. Coughing and gagging, Simon opened his eyes...and saw that the red-track-suited foursome were standing on the stage in front of him.

  They all took off their ball caps at once. Smoothly, they turned each cap inside-out, exposing a flesh-colored lining. When they stretched out the lining, extending it to its full height of three feet, Simon could see what the lining was supposed to look like.

  The ball caps had become penis hats. When the foursome put them back on, they had giant dicks on their heads.

  And that wasn't the end of it. Next, the four unzipped the tops of their track suits, exposing identical black t-shirts with the word "DICK" in white letters across the chest.

  One of the guys--short and stocky, with shaggy black hair and a beard--leaned down and grabbed the microphone from the floor, where it had fallen during the shower of sand. Straightening, he turned with the mic in his hands and shouted at the audience.

  "I am a dick!" said the guy. "Deal with it!"

  The audience was mostly stunned and silent...and then there were some boos. The guy with the mic laughed and let out a shrill war whoop.

  "Better to be a dick than a pussy!" The guy whipped around and pointed at Simon. "If you're a pussy like him, all you get outta life is cat litter."

  Simon looked at the pile of particles around him. So that's what it was. They'd dumped cat litter on him.

  "Dicks will never die!" said the guy with the mic. His three partners cheered and pumped their fists in the air. "We rule the fuckin' world."

  The boos in the audience grew louder and more widespread. It was then that Simon saw five security guards burst through the doors at the rear of the auditorium.

  "And the harder you try to get us to register," said the head dick, "the harder we're gonna make life for all you pussies!"

  With that, the head dick unzipped his track suit further, reached into his big belly...and pulled out a cat. A live cat.

  The other three dicks did the same, and then they all hoisted their cats overhead.

  "Down with pussies!" The four of them said it in unison. "Up with dicks!"

  Then, they turned and threw the cats at Simon. He jumped back, but two still hit him, yowling as they bounced off and landed in the litter pile.

  "You pussies deserve each other!" said Head Dick.

  "Mee-owww!" said the other three dicks.

  "We represent P.U.D.--the People's Union of Dicks!" Head Dick swept an index finger across the crowd. "And we're putting you pussies on notice! Fuck your dick registration act! Fuck D.I.L.L.! Don't fuck with us dicks if you know what's good for you!"

  By now, the security guards were running down the aisles. Simon heard the wail of approaching sirens.

  But the Head Dick wasn't done yet. "And remember to watch Dick Life, premiering Sunday on Testosterone TV! Now fuck off, you pussies!"

  With that, he and the other three dicks split up and ran off the stage, whooping. The five security guards split up too and charged after them, one guard per dick except for the Head Dick, who got two.

  That left Simon standing onstage in a pile of cat litter, staring out at the crowd. One question spun in his brain like a weather vane in a hurricane, whirling at such high speed it turned invisible to the naked eye.

  What do I do now?

  Here's an idea. Let's at least make half an effort to hold on to the tiniest shred of dignity.

  Si
mon stepped forward and bent down to pick up the mic where the Head Dick had dropped it. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the mic to his lips, looked out over the audience, and spoke.

  "Okay, gang." Simon smirked. He hoped no one would notice that he was shaking. "I think we know where to start our dick list."

  To his relief, the crowd roared with laughter. Maybe, he thought, they might think it had all been part of the act. Maybe he could still get away without looking like a completely humiliated moron. Maybe, the whole bizarre scene would still play out in his favor somehow.

  He just had to hope for the best.

  *****

  Chapter 26

  One Week Later

  Melville, Pennsylvania

  It had been a week since the disastrous lecture at Belle Mere. Simon was on the sofa in his living room, working on his laptop, when the latest package arrived.

  Josie dropped the big, colorful bag on the living room floor with a thud. "Should I put it with the others, Boss?" She wiped her hands on her faded denim shirt, then cracked her knuckles.

  Simon glanced at the huge bag on the floor and sighed. An image of an orange-furred tabby cat stared back at him from the front of the package.

  How many bags like this had he gotten in the week since Belle Mere? One hundred? Two hundred? How many more bags were the dicks going to send him?

  How many more bags of cat litter would they send to his house before the joke ran out of steam?

  "More donations for the animal shelter!" Simon waved his hand and tried to laugh off the latest arrival. "Chuck it in the garage with the rest."

  Josie dragged the bag of litter out the front door. "Got a hell of a pile out there, Boss! They just keep coming!"

  "Thank God we have so many pet-lovin' people in the world," said Simon, though of course the bags of litter weren't coming from pet lovers at all.

  They were reminders of P.U.D.'s cat litter stunt at Simon's lecture. They were messages from dicks.