Wings and Dick Tattoos

Beneath the lowest alien craft in the city, Secret Service agents, Larry Wilhelm Davis, Darryl Davison and Darryl Davies were planning a rescue mission. In the ship above them were two girls, who potentially had the key to turning the tide in the battle for Earth. Strangers to them, Larry, Darryl and Darryl were about to risk their lives on a slither of hope, that whatever Katie and Rose had in their box, could be used to stop the Inkaku for good. Agent Davidson was still unsure if it was worth the risk, but Larry and Darryl number two were his brothers and where they went, he went.

“Okay, charges are set; last chance. You guys sure about this? It’s not like we can unplode the door shut later.” Darryl number one said.

“I don’t think unplode is a word, bro,” the other Darryl said.

“Do it,” Larry said.

“Just making sure you know what we’re giving up here. This door leads to safety, rest and over sixty flavors of chicken wings. Up there, that’s a suicide mission.”

“And probably no wings,” Darryl number two added.

“And probably no wings,” Darryl number one happily repeated.

Larry turns to make his way up the stairwell, pausing for a moment; he turns his head long enough to respond, “You think I don’t love wings?” Feeling the urge to continue, he faces the Darryl’s, “I know what I’m asking; I know I’m asking you to risk your lives for these girls and that mystery box. It may all be for nothing, but there’s a chance. I’m willing to risk it. I’m willing to risk my life for that chance, and as God as my witness; I’m willing to risk those fan-fucking-tastic wings. When the dust settles and the sun sets on this day, the world may not know of us or what we have done, but those alien bastards will know us, and if they should win this day, at least they’ll see us in their nightmares. They’ll toss and turn in their skin at night in fear, and every night, after I murder them horribly in their dreams; I’ll be eating wings and fucking their women.”

“Holy shit, dude,” Darryl number one said.

Darryl number two raised the nozzle on his flamethrower and ignited the pilot. “Tonight, we barbecue in Hell.”

***

In the theater room at the White House, everyone was relaxing, enjoying the final few scenes of The Day the Earth Stood Still on the big screen, while Guy was busy cleaning up the spent wing bones from around the room. Melvin wasn’t interested in the movie, but that was okay; he was enjoying himself as he used a black marker to carefully draw cartoonish dicks on Tad’s head, while he was passed out. Having hair tattooed on his head made them harder to see, but that’s what made it funnier to Melvin. Marlo found it hilarious as well; he supplied the marker. Being a part time amateur magician, Marlo Jenkins, always had one on him in case he needed to have someone sign a playing card for a trick. He and Melvin had a similar sense of humor when it came to practical jokes. Geoff and Tom the waiter, were beside Tad, also passed out, but not as much fun to draw dicks on, since they weren’t huge dicks like Tad was. Lorenzo was lounging in the back, enjoying both shows equally. He had just finished his fifth plate of smoked paprika wings with bacon sirloin queso, and washed it all down with a large Code Red Mountain Dew. He was beginning to feel as though he could float away. Peeling himself from the couch, he made his way over to the window, where Secret Service Agents, Anna Naranja and Langhorne Atherholt, were still studying the outside world from their windows.

“Excuse me. Where is the bathroom, hey?”

Anna jumped slightly. “Kanye Christ. You scared me; I thought you were that dick with the tattoos.”

“My bad, hey.”

Langhorne giggled. “Head right when you step into the hallway and it’s on the left.”

Lorenzo nodded, “Okay, right into the hallway, then left?”

“Right.” Lorenzo headed for the door.

“I don’t think he understood you,” Anna said shaking her head.

“He’ll figure it out.”

As Lorenzo stepped into the hallway, he turned right and started walking to the door on the left. As he reached for the doorknob, he remembered Agent Atherholt corrected him. He said, right. Opening the door on the right, Lorenzo immediately realized he made a mistake. There was no toilet in the room, just two people in a nude heap of sweaty flesh on the couch, directly in front of him. Lorenzo stood frozen. They hadn’t heard or seen him come in, and he wanted to watch for as long as he could; which wasn’t long. The woman on top, who looked an awful lot like Vice President, Honey Ryder, raised her hand and slapped the shit out of the poor bastard underneath her. His eyes grew large as he noticed Lorenzo enjoying the show. A loud, high-pitched scream rang out. The girl screamed too. She hopped off the couch in the blink of an eye, and used the nearby curtain to shield her naughty bits. The guy was even quicker off the couch, but more panicked and couldn’t decide what to use for cover.

“Damn it, Hook, grab a shoe or something,” Honey said.

“I don’t think your shoe is big enough to cover it,” he said slyly.

“I’m sorry, hey. I was looking for the restroom.”

“Who are you and how did you get into the White House?” Honey asked.

“My name is Lorenzo and I’m the owner of the Cherubim Cafe; I was with the First Husband and Secret Service. Have you been here this whole time, hey?”

“Yes, we’ve been…um, working on the current national crisis. I’m Hook… Hook Jericho and this is Honey Ryder; you probably know her already.”

“Nope,” Lorenzo answered sharply. He wasn’t caught up on The Walking Dead, much less politics.

“I think maybe it’s time we left on Air Force Two and joined the President at NORAD,” Honey said.

“I’m afraid it is not here; the First Husband took it to see his husband at NORAD, hey.”

“What! God damn it! I told you we should have left a long time ago,” Honey said.

Hook laughed. “The First Husband stole your ride.”

“You should join my group in the theater room; we were just enjoying some chicken wings, hey. Secret Service Agents Anna and Langhorne are out there as well, hey.”

Honey looked at Hook. “We might as well; it doesn’t look like we are going anywhere.”

Lorenzo left the couple and wondered into the bathroom; he had almost forgotten he needed to go.

“I hope the President is okay,” Honey said.

“I’m sure he is fine, hey,” Hook said mocking Lorenzo’s accent.

“You’re such an asshole Hook.”

“You love that I’m an asshole.”

“Seriously though, do you have a plan to get us out of this crisis?” Honey asked.

“Why would I have a plan?” Hook asked and grabbed his pants off the floor.

“You’re the director of FEMA.”

“I’ve only been the director for a short while, how should I know. I was brought on after Michael Brown was fired a second time and the only advice he gave me, was try not to fuck up.”

“He had to say that; it’s what everyone in government is told when they start. It’s more of a guideline than a rule.”

Honey put on her blouse and skirt; she pulled a compact with a mirror out of her purse. “Oh great, I have bed head.” She brushed out her hair and tied it up in a bun. Hook put back on his beige suit and was tying his tie.

Honey and Hook joined the others in the theater room. The introductions were made and they settled in on one of the couches. The pair helped themselves to a plate of chicken wings. Tad immediately forgot about Anna when he saw Honey. Honey, a former model, with long blonde hair and green eyes, was drop dead gorgeous. The other staffers called her the Honey Pot behind her back.

“Hey, I’m going to make a move on the blonde,” Tad whispered to his brother Geoff.

“Are you crazy? That’s the Vice President of the United States,” Geoff hissed.

“So, who cares, everyone is fair game in the apocalypse. I think I’m going to go with, Gurl did you just sit in a pile of sugar, cuz you gotta pretty sweet ass!”

“I think you’re going to be a virgin the rest of your life,” Geoff said.

“I’m not a virgin.”

“Cousins don’t count.”

Tad didn’t respond; he strutted over to where Honey and Hook were sitting. He was all set to say something smooth, but one look at her face and all he could think to say was, “Hey.”

The Vice President looked up at the pimply face boy with the dumb expression and said, “Hey.”

Tad just continued staring, without saying anything else, so Hook spoke up. “Is there something you need kid?”

Geoff, who was watching the scene unfold from across the room, took a picture with his phone of his brother and Honey. He posted the pic on Twitter, with the following caption: My brother trying to hit on the Vice President of the United States. #VeepCreep

Lorenzo finally came back from the bathroom. Guy Fieri’s spicy habenero chicken wings were not agreeing with his stomach; he went over to the couch where Hook and Honey were sitting.

“I’m very sorry I walked in on you when you were making the sex, hey.” Honey’s face went white, Tad opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he shut it again and Hook laughed. The whole room went quiet, because Lorenzo spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. Tad walked away and rejoined his brother, who was now tweeting the latest development.

Anna and Langhorne looked at each other and smiled, as if to say, see we are not the only ones.

A loud, yet muffled sound of broken glass poured in from the hallway; sobering everyone up.

“What’s that?” Marlo asked breaking the silence in the room, as he pointed to the door of the theater room. Underneath the door, a green gas was seeping into the room.

Anna and Langhorne immediately jumped into action. They opened a cabinet that had gas masks and they grabbed enough for everyone.

“Holy shit! You have gas masks in the White House theater room?” Melvin asked.

“Former President Trump insisted that they be put in here, although he had a different use for them. Don’t ask,” Langhorne said.

Everyone put on their gas masks and Anna opened the windows to let the toxic fumes dissipate. Anna couldn’t help but feel like she was forgetting something. Not something, but someone.

“Shit, Guy Fieri is in the kitchen and he doesn’t have a mask.”

Anna grabbed a mask and ran into the kitchen along with the rest of the group, but it was too late. When she got into the kitchen, she could see his recognizable trademark of spiked hair and shades, but it was on a very bloated face. Anna hesitated, but Langhorne drew his gun and fired.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooo,” Marlo Jenkins shouted, and jumped in front of Guy taking the bullet. He fell to the floor; blood was seeping from his chest where Langhorne’s bullet hit.

Langhorne fired again and hit Guy in the forehead. The fat, spiky-haired alien dropped to the ground, as everyone rushed forward at the same time.

Melvin grabbed Guy’s hand. “Hang in there Guy.”

“Don’t you die on us god damn it,” Geoff yelled. No one seemed to notice Marlo on the floor, gasping for his last breath as blood filled his lungs.

“It’s no use; he’s dead,” Anna said.

“I’m hungry; who is going to make the chicken wings now, hey?” Lorenzo asked.

It was the question that was on all of their mines, as tears filled their eyes.