Behold! The power of Bacon!

Inside Shoe Carnival, everyone is busy stuffing their faces with Jib™ bars. The past few hours were intense and everyone is as hungry as they are tired. Lunchbox, using his training as a Cub Scout, tends to Kitty’s wound, as she uses her remaining hand to hold Lunchbox’s Jib™ so he can eat while he works.

Downstairs, Rose nurses Tad back to health while Geoff stands guard by his brother’s side. Apollo is just outside the broken window at Tad’s feet, watching the street for Inkaku.

The office is nearly silent as everyone tries to recuperate from their ordeal, until taping from the roof transitions everyone into alert mode.

“Oh shit,” Fritz said. “What now? Can’t we have any peace?”

Yukon and Eastwood rush to the roof access, while everyone else in the room grabs whatever they can to use as a weapon.

“Allow me,” Melvin said, as he weaves around everyone en route to the ladder.

Melvin sets his cherry soda down and ascends the ladder. He lifts the door to the roof and peaks out.

“What is it?” Fritz asked. “More aliens? Another one of those things? Pirates?”

Melvin thrusts the door the rest of the way open, and comes back down the ladder nonchalantly.

“Chill, Doc. It’s cool. We got company.”

All eyes are glued to the roof access and everyone remains nervous, until they see a snakeskin boot take the first step onto the upper rung of the ladder. Instantly, they all recognize the First Gentleman’s fancy footwear.

The President and his husband enter the office to jeers and questions abound. Evan tells them all about their experience on the ship and Fritz updates Evan and Mick on their adventure in their absence.

“Well now that we’ve taken out the Inkaku leader, what’s happening in the other cities?” The President asked.

“Most of their fleet has retreated,” Eastwood said. “It’s all over the radio. Vampires worldwide have been successfully attacking them head on, but about twenty minutes ago, there was a mass exodus.”

“That was right around the time we defeated t’Evar,” Mick said.

“That’s great news, but everything won’t be all kittens and dildos, until every one of those giant, bald bastards is halfway back to whatever shit hole planet they sprang from,” Evan said.

“What’s our next move?” Yukon asked.

“First I need to see Hank. Where is he? We need to formulate an aftermath strategy.”

“We haven’t seen or heard from him or Marietta, since they went for food,” Kitty said. “I mean, we know they made it back, because there’s Jib™ everywhere, but they must’ve gone back out to look for all of us when we weren’t here.”

“Let’s see,” Evan said as he reaches in his pocket for his Blackberry device. “I have a Friend Locator app.”

After a few simple button presses, and a reboot followed by a battery pull and a few more taps on the screen, Evan slaps the phone on the table beside him a couple of times and calls up the app. Half a dozen swipes and touches later, Evan’s device dings.

“Hmm… this says he’s in the building.”

Evan taps the ring phone feature and everyone turns to the utility closet outside the office when Welcome to the Jungle begins playing on Hank’s phone.

Just seconds into the tune, scrambling can be heard from inside the closet. Hello? spills from the cracks in the door and a delayed Hello? makes its way out of Evan’s speakerphone.

“Eggs.”

“Yes sir?”

“Remember the first bit of advice you gave me when I told you I was running for president?”

“Come out of the closet?”

“Yeah, well I’m giving you the same advice now.”

Eggs and Marietta exited the tiny room, obviously dressed in a rush, with faces as red as a dog’s penis.

“Umm… hi. What did we miss?” Hank asked.

“All of it,” Kitty replied.

* * *

In the city of Detroit, everything was all kittens and dildos, as much as things could be kittens and dildos in Detroit. Langhorne and Anna were safe and sound there, but were planning on returning to D.C., as soon as the aliens were gone for good. Nobody wants to be born here, they thought. They wanted their soon-to-be son, Fletch Atherholt, to have a decent upbringing.

The Inkaku hated Detroit too. They actively avoided that territory during the invasion, because it reminded them too much of j’Ustinlong, the Inkaku’s version of hell.

One ship recently arrived per t’Evar’s request. A scout ship led by t’Evar’s newly appointed second in command, Fartron. t’Evar sent him on the  reconnaissance mission fearing his nemesis, ex commanding officer Mardjii, may have transferred his consciousness into Fartron, upon discovering the second in command’s body; which was a possibility with their species.

Fartron, who was once a mere janitor, was now the Supreme Leader. He got the job, because no one else wanted it. The Inkaku had come to realize that being the Supreme Leader was like sitting on the iron throne in Game of Thrones.

Fartron took a bite of his Jib™ bar, as he pondered his next move, while sitting on an abandoned sedan in the center of the street beneath his ship. He and the rest of the Inkaku had grown to love the delicious snack bar and planned to fill the ship’s pantry with them and take them back to their home planet. While he was chewing, a cougar that escaped from the Detroit Zoo, that no one bothered to look for, because they didn’t give a shit, wandered by him and went into one of the abandoned houses.

What the fuck is wrong with this city?

All throughout the world, Inkaku ships that had been destroyed, were lying about. The humans would have a lot of cleaning up to do. The Inkaku had decided unanimously to retreat after sensing t’Evar’s death, all except Fartron and those who wanted to remain in Russia with Vladimir Putin.

Fartron didn’t want to leave without one last fuck you to the humans, specifically the President of the United States. By the time he had finished eating his Jib™ bar, he had formulated a plan. He felt around in his pocket, which had another Jib™ bar in it, but he decided to save that for later. He called over his Staff Sergeant, collecting Jib™ bars from the café across the street, whose full name was Pisstov7@), but everyone just called him Piss for short.

“Is that crazy doctor bastard still alive?”

“Yes, he’s in his lab right now; he’s working on a replica of the human Kim Kardashian’s ass,” Piss said.

“What’s he going to do with that? Fartron asked. “Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know. Listen, bring him down here I have a job for him.”

While Fartron waited for Piss to return, he thought about the specifics of his plan, it was fairly simple, but it all depended on that quack scientist. Balled up in his pocket was the magazine Intergalactic Muffs, which he thumbed through while he waited. He did so very carefully, because he remembered how the late commanding officer, Mardjii was killed. A deadly bug had jumped out at him, while he was reading a Space Boobs magazine. It felt… familiar.

That bug, whatever it was called, was part of his plan. He had the centerfold spread out and was wondering how the alien with three vaginas used the bathroom, when Piss and La’burypraiv came walking up to him. He rolled the magazine back up and put it in his pocket.

The doctor was carrying something huge in his hands, so big he could barely hold it. It was the size of a Smart car. Fartron wasn’t even sure how he made it down the ship’s escalator with that thing.

“What the hell is that?

“It’s the replica I made of Kim Kardashian’s ass.”

“Why are you carrying it around?”

“I don’t want anyone to steal it,” La’burypraiv said, clutching the ass close to his chest, as if Fartron might try to take it from him.

“Do we know the whereabouts of that bug? The one that killed me, I mean, Mardjii,” Fartron asked.

“The Utrivu was recaptured after several attempts. Twelve Inkaku died, before I remembered to tell them it was dangerous; I have it back in my lab safely locked away.”

“Yes. The Utrivu. I remember now. Can it be programmed to kill a specific person?”

“Well, normally the Utrivu roams and kills as it pleases, piercing the flesh and ejaculating its poisoned sperm into the wound from its forked tongue, causing a swift yet painful death, but I think I can have it target a specific person. Maybe shine a laser on him or something. Those things really hate red dots. They’ll chase them up a wall and everything. I’m talking hours of entertainment.”

“Good, hurry up and do you what you have to do. Once you have it ready, let me know and we will let it lose and leave this crappy planet forever.”

“Okay, I’ll try to hurry as quickly as I can,” La’burypraiv said and struggled to carry the ass back with him. He had only made it a few steps, when the cougar came out of the abandoned house and pounced on him. La’burypraiv toppled over, and the Kardishian ass replica fell to the ground. The cougar bit into it with its sharp teeth and scratched it with its sharp claws, until there was nothing left.

“Nooooooooooo,” La’burypraiv cried. “My ass!”

* * *

After all the functioning Inkaku ships were well out of Earth’s atmosphere, except for Fartron’s, the cameras began rolling on President Evan Bacon, standing tall behind a podium with the remains of the White House as a backdrop.

The crowd was massive as people traveled to witness the American President declare victory over the alien threat in person and be a part of the celebration that was sure to follow.

Along the front row stood the heroes who aided Evan in the victory. Yukon and Kitty, who were sporting a mannequin hand, duct taped to her arm. Apollo and Eastwood, still not totally switched off from attack mode, but slowly coming around.

First Gentleman, Mick Cage-Bacon and Blacula himself, Melvin Morgan, wrist deep into a jar of pickled eggs that didn’t stand a chance.

Tad, sandwiched between Rose and Geoff, who were helping him to stand. Lunchbox and Fritz, snickering at Marietta, who had the back of her skirt, tucked into the right leg hole of her bloomers unknowingly. Beside her, Evan’s Chief of Staff, Hank “Eggs” Benedict, trying hard not to look at Marietta’s eye patch, because it got him got and bothered.

The crowd grew silent, as Evan cleared his throat. The broadcast was worldwide and everyone, living and undead, was watching.

“My fellow Earthlings. We’ve shared an incredible week together; we’ve discovered we are not alone in the universe. Hopefully, in the future, we’ll meet some aliens who aren’t colossal dicks. Amirite?

You’ve not only had to swallow the existence of alien life, but you’ve been hit with vampires and zombies as well. What a week were having…

Please clap.”

The crowd claps awkwardly.

“We’ve shared all this together and endured these trials as one. Let this week be a reminder, that we’re all in this together. Together, we can accomplish a great many things. We belong to this planet and she belongs to us. No one will ever take that away from us.

Color, race, gender, religion, sexual preference… these things define us, but let’s stop letting it divide us. Let’s use this moment to bond together as we were always meant to, as Earthlings, who are different, yet the same. Individual, but one.

Let me make this point clear,  we came together, as we always do in hard times, and we rose above it. I feel a deep swell of pity on any life form out there, that comes to our planet looking for trouble.

If you’re out there in the cosmos watching this, and you think you’re going to muscle in on our planet, think again. I’m addressing you personally, newly appointed Supreme Leader of the Inkaku.”

On the Inkaku scout ship, tucked just behind the clouds above D.C., out of site, Supreme Leader Fartron leans in closer to the monitor.

“He knows of our presence! Quick, La’burypraiv! Release the Utrivu!”

“Let this be a reminder to your species, Supreme Leader. You mess with Earth, your day is gonna blow.”

With a huge smile on his face, President Bacon holds up a small box with a long antenna and a single red button.

“La’burypraiv!” Fartron yelled.

La’burypraiv had a round pad with a similar antenna and a tiny lever. He pulls back the switch and a small door on Evan’s podium swings open.

Hearing the trap door engage, Evan is drawn to it and notices an ugly, insect-like creature staring up at him. He quickly presses his button an ignites a tiny explosive, that Agent Atherholt snuck aboard Fartron’s ship back in Detroit.

Luckily, the tiny scout ship was laid out similar to the mother ship and the crates of thermal detonators were right where Evan thought they’d be.

The tiny explosive ignited the thermal detonators aboard the vessel and instantly Fartron, his crew, and their ship imploded. It burst out into a sea of sparks in the sky.

Unfortunately, the Utrivu, also burst out and found the President. His friends and husband rushed the stage. Melvin kicked the alien insect so hard it exploded, but it was too late. It’s acidic semen was already coursing through Evan’s veins.

As Evan lie there, dying, everyone in his field of vision was scrambling, trying to save him, but all the sound was muffled. He simply laid there, reserved to his fate, looking deeply into Mick’s eyes as they squeezed each others hands.

Mick knew it was the end, so did Evan, but they need not waste words. They had said everything to each other they needed to say. Evan was just glad that Mick and everyone else was safe. Evan had saved them all. President Bacon saved the world.

Evan’s eyes closed for the last time.

* * *

Evan shot strait up in his bed; his forehead was dripping with sweat.

“Are you okay, baby?” His wife asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a nightmare.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine, Kitty. Really. Go back to bed.”

“Was it the same as the others? The aliens and the mimes?”

“Yeah, but this time you lost a hand and I wasn’t married to Gary Busey this time. It was Nicolas Cage.”

“Haha. Weirdo. Lay back down with me.”

“You go back to sleep baby. I’m gonna go watch some TV. I’m too awake to fall back to sleep now.”

“Alright, but not too loud. I love you.”

Evan went downstairs and poured himself some tap water. He had three more hours before his shift at Starbucks started. He sat in his recliner and grabbed the remote.

The TV was already tuned to the Fox News channel. Evan took a second to register what he was watching. He sat up in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He thought he may still be dreaming. A quick pinch proved it; he was awake.

The newscaster was in horror, as the reporter on the street was attacked during the broadcast.

“Umm, folks, we seem to have lost Wendy. We, agh, we remind you to stay inside and lock all your windows and doors. Again, if you’re just joining us, the Seattle area is under attack by what we can only describe as werewolves…”

“Oh, you have got to be shitting me.”

Before Evan could alert his wife, he heard screaming around his front yard. The noise was enough to wake Kitty up, and she ran halfway down the steps to check on Evan.

“Evan? What was that?”

“Kitty… you’re not going to believe this, but-”

Evan and Kitty jumped, as a loud thud struck their door. Another thud followed and then another and finally a giant, hairy arm with razor sharp claws busted through.

Kitty ran to Evan. He picked up the poker by the fireplace and held it at the ready. The beast broke through and started toward them. Evan raised the poker high and swung with all his might.

A loud ring blared, like a sharp school bell through the sound stage.

“Cut!” The director yelled. “I think we got it! Great job everyone. That’s a wrap for today, go home and get some sleep. Remember, 5:30 am tomorrow morning for the lesbian love triangle scene by the pool, and make sure you return all the pieces of those werewolf costumes this time. Yeah, I’m looking at you, Aaron. Those things aren’t cheap.”

“Hey,” Kevin Bacon said, “what time you need me tomorrow, Stephen?”

“Not until two, babe, but listen, you may want to be here for the lesbian scene in the morning. I’m planning tons of takes for that one; it’s gonna be grand.”

“Alright, alright. You talked me into it. I’ll see you around five. Don’t eat all the damned crullers this time, alright? And if we do a sequel, I want my character, Evan, in on the next threesome!”

Kevin Bacon heads to the back of the set and grabs a bottle of water, before breezing out the door and into the lot. Halfway to his trailer, while texting his agent on his phone, he notices a odd shadow pattern pass over him.

He looks up to the sky in amazement…

The horizon is full of flying saucers floating in the sky. Suddenly beams of white hot light, zap out of the bottom of the disks in all directions. One of the mimes from Kevin’s new movie, Bacon Saves the World is evaporated before Kevin’s eyes.

Kevin drops his water bottle and reaches for his chest. He digs his fingers between the buttons and rips his shirt off, revealing a giant letter “B” inside a diamond crest on the chest area of his spandex suit. From his pocket, he retrieves his purple eye mask and bends his legs slightly, as he lowers to the ground.

“Showtime.”

Pushing off, Kevin Bacon soars into the sky with lightning speed towards the Armada. A loud sonic boom shatters the nearby windows. He can be heard yelling, as he flies over scared onlookers, now filled with hope…

“Behold! The power of Bacon!”

Mime is Money

 

Mick and Evan lie at t’Evar’s feet, circled by t’Evar’s minions; all of whom are chomping at the bit to end the humans, but this victory belongs to their Supreme Leader. Mick lies motionless, blood draining from his stomach. Evan can’t even crawl over to his wounded husband, because he himself is in a bad way. Both of his arms are useless, and his right knee is shattered. He’s unable to stand or even pull himself across the floor.

Being a vampire, one doesn’t need legs. Vampires can float in the air after all, but without arms, vampires cannot steer. They would bump into everything like a ragdoll in space, or a ball in an underwater pinball machine. Even if that weren’t the case, Evan couldn’t carry Mick and there was no way he would abandon his husband to these monsters.

Evan remained still and watched, as t’Evar strolled his fat ass closer. He wasted a lot of energy breaking into the room. If Evan wasn’t so injured, he could make short work of the inglorious bastard. For now, all he could do was talk and that’s exactly what he did.

“You have no honor. You come to claim victory for your underlings work; you shit crime.”

t’Evar was stunned that his enemy would address him this way.

“Why do you say such things, when you know that I will make you suffer for it?”

“You don’t scare me, you diseased jelly donut fart. If your minions didn’t overpower us, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

“Jelly donut fart? I don’t even know what that means.”

“You don’t know shit. You’re not fit to lead; you blubber filled cat scrotum.”

“Silence! I’ve had enough of you and your kind.”

“My kind? My kind? Really? It’s not enough that I have to smell your abundance of ass, but now I have to lie here and be insulted by a bigot?”

“What is going on here? What is even happening right now?” t’Evar asked as he looked around at the other Inkaku in the room. They were even more confused than he was, since they did not understand English.

“You know what I think? I think you could have come through that door the whole time, but you knew you weren’t strong enough to take me on, and so you waited behind the door like a coward, pissing yourself in fear, and let them wear us down so you could stroll in and finish the job. Isn’t that right, cock breath?”

“I am t’Evar the Magnificent! No one speaks to me this way! No one is more powerful than I. No one!”

t’Evar began smashing anything he could get his hands on, including a couple unlucky Inkaku nearby. Evan was left unharmed so he could witness t’Evar’s strength and ferocity. It was just as Evan hoped.

With every smash of his fist, Evan grinned a little more, because t’Evar took out some of the competition, spent more of his energy, and bought Evan a little more time… to heal.

 

* * *

 

Apollo and Yukon were still firing at the Stamp Zzod, who turned its sights on them and came bounding at them full speed.

“Shit, here it comes,” Yukon said and he and Apollo jumped on top of the roof of the car and over the other side and crouched down. The Stamp Zzod lifted the car up and threw it across the road. The car landed on one of the mimes lying in the road. The Stamp Zzod reached out and grabbed Yukon in one of its massive hands and started to squeeze the life out of him. Apollo had to think quickly, he was out of bullets and he glanced around for anything he could use as a weapon. All he saw were dead mimes, shell casings and a Jib™ Bar.

How did that get there?

He was almost out of time, soon the Stamp Zzod would crush Yukon and then he’d be next. So, he did the only thing he could think of. Apollo crouched down and with all his strength; he hit the Stamp Zzod in the balls with an uppercut. For a moment, Apollo thought he didn’t hit it hard enough, because the creature continued to crush Yukon, but then its eyes rolled back in his head and it released its hold on Yukon, who fell limply to the ground. The Stamp Zzod dropped like a boulder clutching his balls. Apollo quickly grabbed Yukon, dragging him back to the Shoe Carnival.

Eastwood still in a daze from where the Stamp Zzod had hurled him into a car, stood up.

“Hit him with this,” Fritz yelled from the top of the building and dropped something out of the window.

Eastwood sprinted over to see what it was that Fritz dropped; it was a crowbar.

“Hey, I dropped my Jib™ Bar down there; let me know if you see it.”

Eastwood picked up the crowbar and ran over to the Stamp Zzod, who was starting to recover. He swung the crowbar with all its strength and hit it square in the jaw. The Stamp Zzod roared and swatted at Eastwood who dodged its meaty fist.

“No, hit it in the stomach,” Fritz yelled.

Eastwood swung again, this time hitting it in the stomach. He moved quickly out of the way before the Stamp Zzod could retaliate and waited.

“God damn it Fritz! Nothing is happening.”

“I don’t understand; that should have broken the vial. I know; it just needs a catalyst.”

“A what? Speak English.”

“It needs to get its digestive juices flowing. You have to feed it something.”

Eastwood looked around on the ground and saw the Jib™ Bar that Fritz dropped. He quickly undid the wrapper and was going to shove it down the Stamp Zzod’s throat, but he was too late. The Stamp Zzod was furious and elbowed Eastwood hard in the solar plexus. Eastwood crumpled to the ground gasping for breath. The Stamp Zzod was just about to issue the finishing blow, when it noticed an army of mimes marching down the street. The Stamp Zzod roared and charged the mimes.

The Stamp Zzod cut through the mimes like a hot knife through butter. The mimes were pulling invisible pins out of invisible grenades and hurling it at the beast. The Stamp Zzod stood there in confusion. Eastwood who was still clutching the Jib™ Bar, tried to stand but couldn’t catch his breath; the Stamp Zzod had knocked the wind out of him.

“I’ll take that,” said a raspy man’s voice. The man grabbed the candy bar out of Eastwood’s hand. Eastwood looked up and saw a man in his early sixties, with a long white beard that was gnarled with tangles. He was wearing torn jeans, a dirty Van Halen t-shirt that was from the “Party ‘til You Die” tour, trench coat, no shoes and carrying an RPG.

“For once Tad wasn’t bullshitting, there really is a dirty Jason Bourne,” Eastwood said.

“The name is Bob Barnes. Jason Bourne is a douche.”

“Quick, feed the monster the Jib™ Bar.”

“Fuck that shit,” Bob said, as he took a bite of the Jib™ Bar, dropping to one knee and putting the RPG on his shoulder. He took aim and fired into the crowd of mimes. The RPG ripped into the crowd of mimes and black hats and vests went everywhere, but it missed the Stamp Zzod.

“Hey, that was my Jib™ Bar,” Fritz yelled out the window.

“You missed it,” Eastwood said.

“I wasn’t aiming for the creature; I hate fucking mimes.”

Bob took aim again, this time at the Stamp Zzod. He hit it right in the mouth as it was roaring and as it exploded, pieces of the Stamp Zzod’s head rained down everywhere. It still stood upright and a gurgling burp rang out from its neck hole.

Green gas slowly spewed from the throat of the beast as it stood motionless.

“You did it,” Fritz cheered. Yukon and Apollo came out of the Shoe Carnival, along with Geoff, Melvin, Lunchbox and Kitty, who had finally regained consciousness.

Lunchbox had a Jib™ Bar in each hand.

While the group was busy hugging each other and cheering, Bob, not one for a fuss, put the rest of the Jib™ Bar in his dirty pocket and quietly left.

Kitty, who now only had one hand, looked around at all the dead mimes. “Where did all the mimes come from?”

Yukon pointed to the DC Academy of Dramatic Arts, that was right next to the Me So Horny erotica shop. The group watched as a fat alien came out of the store wearing a Me So Horny  t-shirt and carrying a giant dildo. The alien saw the group and holding up the dildo in one hand, gave the group a little wave and a smile like Sup, bitches, then ran like hell.

They all just watched him waddle away as fast as his swollen feet could take him; the sound of his Crocs™ shuffling over the concrete.

As he passed the once menacing Stamp Zzod, the headless beast finally fell over, slowly, like a downed mighty oak tree. As it hit the ground, a loud, sharp fart shot out of the beast like a popped balloon. The rush of green gas washed over the fat alien and all that was left, was his shirt, a pair of Crocs™, and a dirty dildo.

 

* * *

 

Aboard the mother ship, hovering just a few hundred feet above that dirty dildo, t’Evar was still busy disassembling the room in anger just as Evan hoped he would. Evan was almost completely healed now, but Mick’s wounds would require a bit more time.

Evan saw the hole t’Evar ripped through the door on his way in and thought, if he could reach the hall, the Supreme Leader would chase him out and Mick would have more time to recover. t’Evar was stronger than either of them individually; only together would they stand a chance.

Luckily for Evan, most of the Inkaku that had outnumbered and overpowered him and his husband earlier, were either dead or had fled in fear during t’Evar’s tantrum. Only a few remained, but they were elites and not to be taken lightly.

t’Evar broke the last thing standing in the room; an alien China cabinet of sorts and Evan couldn’t wait any longer. The only thing left to destroy now was Mick and Evan; he had to move.

As t’Evar turned to concentrate his anger on Evan and Mick, Evan clasped his hands together into one fist and swung them up from deep behind his right side; trying his best to merge them with the Supreme Leader’s nuts.

Evan rose up, using his legs to supply more power, and followed through with his blow. t’Evar’s dick flew across the room and slammed through the glass of an instrument panel. Evan was not aware of this, but the Inkaku had detachable penises. Thankfully, for Evan, their scrotum was not detachable. They were very much in place and a major weak spot for the Inkaku.

Like the eye of a great Cyclops, a well placed shot in the infamous Inkaku weak spot was blinding. Evan took this opportunity to attack the Elite Guard in the room, while t’Evar thrashed around on the ground.

Evan darted around the room ripping out throats and detaching penises, as t’Evar regained his sight. Evan donkey punched the final alien guard in the back of the head, forcing it to plunge face first onto its own detached penis; impaling its skull in the process.

With regained sight, t’Evar stood tall and looked around at the heaps of bodies on the floor. He looked at Evan with an eerie calmness. Evan could see Mick struggling to recover directly behind his foe. Time to lead his opponent into the hallway.

“Look!” Evan shouted as he pointed to t’Evar’s right. “A blue-breasted tit swallow!”

t’Evar had no clue what a blue-breasted tit swallow was, but he’d also never heard of the oldest trick in the book. He turned to see what the President was talking about and Evan made a break for it.

Realizing that he’d be duped, t’Evar reached out and grabbed Evan by the foot as he zoomed by. He slammed Evan to the ground right before he made it out into the hallway.

Evan’s face slapped the floor so hard it knocked his fangs out. They would grow back eventually though.

At least I didn’t swallow them, he thought Vampire fangs were needle sharp and passing them is no festival in the park.

t’Evar pulled Evan toward him and easily lifted him up by his leg, holding him upside down off the ground. t’Evar pulled back his other arm in preparation to knock Evan’s head free from it’s body, when suddenly, he felt Mick’s fangs sink into his ankle.

“©R∆¶ -$#X ©R∆¶” t’Evar yelled in his native tongue, which roughly translated to “SHIT, FUCK, SHIT!”

t’Evar yanked his leg away and tore his own flesh in the process, then returned it to Mick in the form of a mule kick. Mick shot across the room and slammed to a halt at the wall.

Evan was filled with rage, and used his razor sharp claws and washboard abs, to pull himself up and claw away at t’Evar’s arm like a pissed off pussycat.

The Supreme Leader released his grip and Evan was all over him, clawing at him and pulling t’Evar’s hair like a madman. Mick found his footing and pressed the attack.

The two men worked on the already exhausted Supreme Leader for what felt like an eternity. The giant alien Rosie O’Donnell, got his fair share of licks in, but he was wearing down and he knew it.

t’Evar backed into the wall and threw all his weight behind it in an effort to crush Mick, who had all the wind knocked out of his lungs and cracked his head against the glass labeled, In Case of Emergency, Break Glass.

Mick slid down the wall like a cracked egg into a seated position and the glass fell around him. A second later, the sphere behind the glass rolled out and fell into his lap, nearly crushing his marbles.

Gathering what strength he had left, t’Evar grabbed Evan by the throat and thrust him against the damaged exit door; the jagged metal pierced him in several places.

“You’ve fought well, human, but I am victorious. I will rape this planet and leave it barren. The universe will refer to this rock as Planet Evan, so all will be reminded of your failure.”

“After today,” Evan struggled to say. “Everyone will call their assholes t’Evar for obvious reasons.”

Evan reached out his hand and Mick tossed him the sphere. He pressed the button on it and using all his might, he punched the device into t’Evar’s detached dick hole.

t’Evar stumbled backwards as he tried to fish out the device in a panic. The sphere exploded, leaving little more than t’Evar’s head and upper torso.

“What was that thing?” Evan asked.

“Well, the tag said ‘Thermal Detonator’ on it.”

“Like from Star Wars?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Evan pulled himself free from the jagged metal door. “We’ll have to see if we can find another one on the way out.”

Evan helped Mick up and they started into the hallway. Mick turned back to look at t’Evar, who was hanging on to life. Just a bit of chest and a head, like a fucked up Max Headroom lying on the floor.

“Should we put him out of his misery?” Mick asked.

“Nope.”

The two strolled down the hallway, as t’Evar gurgled slurs in his native language of Vanhalen.

 

 

 

The Great Mime Massacre

Yukon and Geoff dipped into a storefront with a busted facade, as the Stamp Zzod amused itself with a group of mimes trapped in imaginary boxes just outside the store. The beast was almost upon them, when they turned the corner. Luckily, the Stamp Zzod thought the mimes were more interesting and Yukon and Geoff were more than happy to get a break.

“Mimes?” Geoff asked. “Can this day get any weirder?”

“You gotta admire their commitment to their craft.”

“I’m amazed they’ve survived this entire time. All this shit is going down and they’re outside, on the street, playing imaginary tug-of-war and shit.”

Just then, one of the mimes flew by the broken out window, cartwheel style.

“That thing is tossing them around like rag dolls,” Yukon said. “We need a plan.”

“Hide is a great plan. It’s really working for me.”

Another mime crashes into the car outside, collapsing the roof in. To add insult to injury, the Stamp Zzod lands on him and starts hopping up and down, gleefully.

“After all the people we ran past, that thing ran them all down and kept after us. It even mowed through some aliens; I don’t think we’re safe here.”

A few of the mimes surround the Stamp Zzod and begin firing imaginary machine guns and bazookas at it, but the creature remains unharmed.

“Lets keep running while he’s busy. We should double back to Shoe Carnival. I hope Melvin can fight this thing.”

A mime runs down the sidewalk, faking a scream, but still not making a sound. The Stamp Zzod catches him in his massive hand and launches him strait up into the sky. Geoff and Yukon never see him land.

“Okay Geoff; you’re right. Melvin may be our best bet. I’m sure he’s wondering what happened to us.”

Geoff runs for the back door with Yukon close behind. He slams open the door and runs out, slamming face first into a large, hairy chest.

“Murmph!”

“Oh hi, Geoff,” Lunchbox said.

“Oh my Kanye, you scared the literal shit out of me when you rushed through that door,” Fritz yelled.

“Why do you have your shirt off, Stanley?!” Geoff yells, as he wipes hairy chest sweat from his cheeks.

“Quiet, Geoff,” Yukon said. “It may hear you.”

“What do you mean, it?” Fritz asked.

The back wall of the busted up store explodes into the street, knocking the men down. The smoke clears quickly in the wind, revealing the it in question.

“Great Odin’s eye patch!” Lunchbox yells, as Fritz drowns his words in a piercing lady scream.

Yukon springs up and helps Geoff to his feet. “Run. Run!”

The Stamp Zzod lifts it’s arms high and brings them crashing down onto the pavement Fritz once occupied, before being yanked to safety by Lunchbox.

Geoff, Fritz and Lunchbox follow Yukon, as he blazes a trail back to Shoe Carnival.

“Where are we going?” Fritz asked. “How do we stop that thing?”

“We can’t fight it, but maybe Melvin can; we’re going to find him,” Geoff said.

As they run, they gain a bit of distance between them and the Stamp Zzod, but as Yukon and Geoff learned from experience, it never lasts. The beast slows at every car to toss it from it’s path, and with each human or alien unlucky enough to be in arms reach along the way.

When Yukon rounded the corner and had Shoe Carnival  in his sights, he noticed Melvin sitting on the edge of the roof, dangling his legs over the side and snacking on a jar of what looked like cherries.

Yukon calls out to Melvin to get his attention. He turns to the group, high-tailing it towards him and gives a leisurely wave to acknowledge their presence. His smile fades, as he sees the beast chasing them and gingerly, he sets his cherries on the roof. Melvin then stands up and leans into a head-first dive off the roof.

A few feet from transforming into a puddle on the sidewalk, Melvin transitions into a high-speed horizontal torpedo of fangs and claws. In no time, he zooms by Yukon, Geoff, Fritz, and Lunchbox and they turn to cheer him on. The Stamp Zzod charges, unfazed, with renewed anger and ferocity.

Melvin plows directly into the beast’s chest, knocking it back a hundred feet into a Meals on Wheels van; which explodes on impact. The act renders Melvin unconscious, but Yukon and the others burst into cheers.

“I knew he could do it.” Yukon said, as he and the others run to Melvin’s aid.

“He’s knocked out,” Fritz said, as he begins to loosen Melvin’s bowtie. “He’ll be alright, but he’ll probably be out of commission for a while.”

The sound of metal scraping asphalt draws everyone’s attention to the fiery mess about thirty yards away. In the dark smoke, and even darker shape rises up. Embers trickle upwards, highlighting the beast as they rise. The mangled van splits in two, as the Stamp Zzod pushes it from his path, like curtains parting before a play.

“That thing is unstoppable.” Geoff yelled.

“I’ll lead him away from Melvin,” Yukon tells them.

The Stamp Zzod began to charge and Yukon ran towards it, yelling obscenities in an attempt to gain it’s focus. He turned sharply down an alley and the beast followed.

Melvin was safe, for now. Geoff, Fritz and Lunchbox began dragging Melvin toward Shoe Carnival.

“In there,” Geoff said. “Kitty is in there. If Yukon makes it, it’s the first place he’ll come back to. You know, this would be a lot easier without that briefcase.”

“No!” Fritz blurted out. “We need it.”

“What the hell is in it?”

“This briefcase has the toxin Fritz created,” Lunchbox explained. “We need to get it to the President.”

“Oh shit, I forgot all about the President. He’s on that ship above us with Mick. I hope they’re alright.”

 

 

* * *

 

Mick and Evan looked at one another and then at the number of Inkaku they had to face.

“It’s practically an entire army,” Mick said giving his husband’s hand a squeeze. Evan knew what that squeeze meant. It was a ‘we might not get out of this mess’ squeeze.

Evan glanced at the wall, there was a shiny spherical object encased in glass that said, In case of emergency, break glass. There was no time to ponder over the object. Mick was the first to pounce and then Evan a half second behind. In one swift bite, Mick had ripped an Inkaku’s throat out with his teeth. Evan used his sharp claw like fingernails and dispatched another one, ripping it to shreds. The two were quick, but the sheer number of the Inkaku was overwhelming. Shots were being fired everywhere; it was like the Wild West. Mick and Evan were dodging bullets left and right, but even with their lightning-quick vampire reflexes, they couldn’t withstand that many, so they used the abundance of Inkaku to their advantage the best they could. Weaving around them, they allowed their enemies the opportunity to shoot their comrades. That thinned the herd a bit, but not nearly enough.

A bullet clipped Mick in the shoulder and he went down. Before Evan could check on his husband, he was clipped in the knee. The bullet shattered his leg. The Inkaku watched as the two writhed in pain.

One Inkaku, who had not joined in the battle was standing off to the side and picking his nose.

Mick saw the alien and even through his agony he said, “Eww…gross.”

The two fought through their pain and even with a shattered leg and wounded shoulder, they managed to take out a few more, but there was still too many of them.  Mick got hit again, but this time in the stomach. Evan watched in horror, as Mick went down like a hooker in a Waffle House bathroom and did not get back up.

“You Danny DeVito looking bastards,” Evan screamed and clawed his way through a few more, before he was hit in the right arm, followed by the left arm.

When it looked as if both men were finished, only then did t’Evar manage to bust through the door and step in to finish the job. He took a step toward the men and right on cue, the music blasted over the speakers. He commanded it be played every time he was about to do battle.

Mick, who briefly regained consciousness asked, “Is that Eye of the Tiger,” and passed out again.

 

* * *

 

 

Fritz held the door open as Geoff and Lunchbox dragged Melvin’s limp body into Shoe Carnival.

“Melvin feels like he’s gaining weight the further we drag him,” Geoff said.

“What now?” Fritz asked.

“Upstairs to the office overlooking the showroom floor; that’s where we were held up. Poor Kitty lost her hand earlier and passed out from shock. Melvin probably took her there; it’s what I would’ve done.”

Fritz helped the two men get Melvin up the steps to the office. Sort of. The first half went well, but somewhere in the middle, Fritz pussed-out and Lunchbox and Geoff ended up pulling him by a leg each, while Melvin’s head slowly bounced up the steps along the way.

Once in the office, they laid him on the floor in front of the couch, where Kitty was resting; she was still out of it.

“Oh man,” Fritz said with excitement. “Jib™ Power Bars! I love these things; I’m starved.”

Geoff walked over to the table. “Where did these come from? They weren’t here earlier… Oh, Eggs and Marietta must have finally come back. We sent them out to scavenge for food hours ago.”

“Well they hit the jackpot,” Fritz said with a mouthful of Jib™.

“Where are they now?” Geoff asked, as he headed to the roof access ladder. “They’re not up here either.”

“They must be out there looking for you guys,” Lunchbox said. “I’m sure they’ll turn up sooner or later.”

The building shook a bit, like something big hit it outside. Lunchbox told Fritz to stay with Kitty and Melvin, while he and Geoff went to check it out.

On the roof, they could see the Stamp Zzod, tossing cars, Mimes and debris around.

“There’s Yukon,” Geoff pointed out.

“Hey, look who’s with him,” Lunchbox said.

“Tad! He’s alive! They’re all alive!”

Yukon, Apollo Greyskull, who everyone was still calling Tom the Waiter at this point, and Eastwood were battling the beast. They had surrounded him and thanks to the weapons Apollo and Eastwood brought along, finally were able to fight back.

Katie, Rose and Tad were huddled tightly behind a Kia Sorrento for lack of better cover.

“We should go help them,” Lunchbox said.

Before they had a chance to move, they saw Eastwood yell out something to Katie. She nodded and reached into a duffle bag she was carrying. She pulled a grenade and gave Eastwood a thumbs up.

Eastwood stood up and yelled at the monster. He fired his side arm to attract it’s attention. Katie pulled the pin from the grenade and tossed it at the Stamp Zzod. The pin, not the grenade.

Rose and Tad noticed what she did and yelled out to her in horror. Katie realized her mistake and quickly tossed the grenade away. She got rid of it in time and a moment of relief swept over Rose and Tad, but thanks to her shitty aim, the grenade hit the Speed limit sign directly in front of her and dropped to her feet.

Eastwood didn’t see what happened next, because his face was planted firmly in his palm, but everyone else watched in horror, as Katie ended her short career as a human.

The explosion knocked Rose and Tad backwards, into the one good window that was left in the Shoe Carnival and Geoff hurried downstairs for them.

As they passed Fritz on their way down to Rose and Tad, Lunchbox stopped just a split second to retrieve one of the vials he and Fritz worked on earlier.

“Wait! There’s only two of them and we can’t waste them,” Fritz yelled.

Lunchbox didn’t hesitate. Fritz ran after him, yelling the entire time.

When Geoff reached Tad, he was badly injured. Rose was holding him close and crying. Geoff dropped by his brother’s side and Lunchbox hurdled him and ran outside with Fritz hot on his trail.

Lunchbox ran to Eastwood and handed him the vial.

“This may kill that thing,” he said.

Fritz ran out thinking about nothing else, except retrieving the vial Lunchbox took. This was the first time he had ever ran towards the danger.

They were out of options. Yukon and Apollo were injured, but keeping the beast busy. Eastwood grabbed the vial and hurled it at the Stamp Zzod.

“Wait!” Fritz yelled.

It was too late; the vial smashed against the Stamp Zzod’s shoulder and shattered, releasing a thick, green gas. The Stamp Zzod just waved it’s massive hand, like it was swatting away an annoying fly and the gas dissipated.

“You’ll have to get it in him,” Fritz said. “He has to breath it in.”

“Now you tell me,” Eastwood said. “Okay, give me another one.”

“There is no more.” Fritz screamed at him. He held up the last vial and said, “I only made two and this last one has to get to the President.”

Eastwood snatched the vial out of Fritz’s hand. “You’ll make more.”

Eastwood lept over the Hyundai they were hunched behind, and ran toward the beast. Fritz stood up and gave the middle finger to Eastwood’s back.

“Sure, I’ll just run down the street and make some more, asshole.”

Eastwood paid no attention to Fritz, he was too busy dodging the mime that the Stamp Zzod hurled toward him.

What’s the deal with these fucking mimes? He thought.

Eastwood ran and jumped on top of a car, located between him and the monster. He was rushing, and jumped from it just as the Stamp Zzod kicked the vehicle and sent it flying.

Eastwood latched onto the beast’s back. The Stamp Zzod swatted at him, but couldn’t reach him; he was too bulky; like Carrot Top.

Eastwood held on until the right moment, when the beast became infuriated and let loose a violent roar. He lifted up and dunked the vial into the monster’s mouth.

The poison easily made it’s way down into the Stamp Zzod’s belly, but the glass didn’t shatter so the gas was contained safely in the vial like a multivitamin.

“Shit!” Eastwood said as the Stamp Zzod was finally able to reach him and slung him from his back and across the road.

The Stamp Zzod was more furious than ever and thus far uninjured. Apollo and Yukon fired upon it, but still, they were getting nowhere and beginning to feel weary from their injuries.

Lunchbox and Fritz were pinned behind the car that the Stamp Zzod punted toward them moments earlier.

“Well shit,” Lunchbox said to Fritz as he was struggling to keep from passing out. “I never did get one of those Jib™ bars.”

 

The Best Laid Plans of Vampires and Men

 

Mick was getting jumpy; he was ready for more action. During their time at Shoe Carnival, all that was being done was planning. Mick wasn’t used to sitting around and waiting. In his line of work, all the planning took place before he arrived on set. He was a man of action.

Once he graduated from porn to big budget Hollywood action flicks, his need for action just increased. His biggest role to date, Brad Shaw from the block buster franchise Sex and The City and Death, took him to a zenith of action and adventure. It was like a drug to him, and he’d been chasing that drugn ever since he stepped into that role. He almost felt that role prepared him for the invasion they were now fighting to end.

“How does that sit with you, babe?” Evan asked, returning Mick to the land of the living.

“Fine. I just want to kill something. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Well, we were saying you and I would take the lead and Melvin, being the strongest flyer, would take the rear in case something goes south.”

“Which it probably will.”

“Yes,” Evan confirmed, “Which it probably will.”

“Darling, when things don’t go according to plan, that’s when you really shine. I have total faith in you. I shine with a weapon in my hand. As long as you have your mind and I have a knife, we’ll defeat these bastages. And our dicks. Your mind, my knife, and our dicks. That’s all we need and nothing else. Just protect your dick.”

Evan smiled. Mick always knew how to make him feel better.

“Ahem,” Geoff cleared his throat to remind Evan and Mick that he was standing beside them. Evan and Mick turned their heads to give him their attention.

“Sir, the bags are ready,” he said.

“Thank you, Geoff. And the rope?”

“Hook and Honey have all the loops knotted. They’re on the roof tying the bags off now.”

“Good,” Evan said then picked up a bolt gun and handed it to Mick. “Ready to end this?”

“Protect your dick,” Mick said as he slung the tool over his shoulder.

“It’s heading this way!” Hook yelled as he hurried down the ladder from the roof. “It’s go time.”

Kitty, Yukon and Honey were already on the roof when Evan, Mick, Melvin and Geoff followed Hook up the ladder. Less than a couple blocks away, a massive Inkaku ship was slowly approaching as if it was obeying the speed limit.

“Cutting it close,” Yukon said as Mick grabbed up some coiled rope and tossed it to Evan. Evan pulled the rope up an arm and over his head to free his hands.

“Good luck,” Kitty said with a kiss on the cheek, as she handed Evan a heavy duffle bag.

Evan looked around at the faces of his team. “Everyone knows the plan. Be careful and hopefully, we’ll all get out of this alive. Kanye speed.”

With that, Evan and Mick launched into the air. Both men flew up and disappeared over the ship, as it began to eclipse the building; cutting off sunlight to the others as they watched the ship pass.

“You okay?” Yukon asked his beloved.

“Kittens and dildos.”

Mick and Evan were at the other end of the ship in no time. They landed near the rear and Evan unzipped the duffle bag. He pulled a bundle of metal poles, that sprang out with a sharp jolt, like a large camera tripod. He set it near the rear of the ship, while Mick bolted the legs down to the ship’s hull.

After each leg had a bolt, Evan began threading the rope, while Mick secured the tripod with finishing bolts in each leg.

“That should do it,” Mick said. “Toss it over.”

Evan flung both ends of the rope over the side of the vessel. The ends fell to the streets where Hook and Honey were waiting to help guide them to the Shoe Carnival building. They guided them over quickly, as Geoff and Yukon grabbed the rope and started pulling the ends up towards them. Melvin and Kitty rushed to help them.

“Hurry!” Melvin said.

Yukon’s end was over the edge first and he ran over to the other end of the building to another rope, which was secured to two large duffle bags. They had loops tied along the length. He used the heavy duty carabiners, to quickly connect the lines together.

“Got it!” He yelled, as he turned to observe the progress of the others.

Geoff and Kitty almost had their end, when the shoddy masonry work gave way. Geoff had to release his hold to grab on to Kitty, as she spilled over the side.

Geoff had Kitty and began pulling her up, but the rope was now out of reach. Melvin ran to the side of the building and hurled himself over after the runaway rope. The ship overhead was now beginning to pass over Shoe Carnival completely. Time was running out.

Yukon ran over to the latch point they had bolted down earlier, in hopes that Melvin would make it before it was too late. Just then, Melvin flew up over the edge, holding the rope tightly in both hands. As the rope began to tighten, Yukon met with Melvin and began pulling the slack, as they latched the carabiner just in time. The two jumped backwards, as the rope tightened with a snap.

“Kanye Christ,” Yukon said. “That was close.”

Geoff and Kitty ran over to join them, and each of them threw a hand through a loop of rope and held tight. The anchored end, tightly led up to the ship and through a pulley on the tripod that Evan and Mick recently installed. The further the ship went, the more it would pull up from the other end, or so was the plan.

The two duffle bags filled with munitions, were already off the ground and clear of the building. The slack was all but gone and Kitty was first to lift off as Geoff, Yukon and Melvin kept the line taught.

Seconds after Kitty cleared the building, the craft came to a halt, leaving Kitty dangling and the others quite literally with their hands tied.

On top of the ship, Evan and Mick were deeply invested in cutting through the hull when it came to rest.

“Shit,” they both said to one another simultaneously. They dropped their tools and ran to the edge to check on their friends.

Meanwhile, Kitty was beginning to panic, as she dangled high above the street.

“Yukon!”

“Hold on, Kitty!”

Melvin asked Yukon, “Can you hold this without me?”

“Yes. Please, go get her.”

Melvin lept into the air. Geoff and Yukon slid forward until Geoff’s boots planted against the edge of the rooftop.

For a second, Geoff felt secure; forgetting that the brick and mortar he placed his trust in belonged to a Shoe Carnival.

Melvin reached Kitty and tried freeing her hand from the loop that had tightened under the tension, cutting off circulation to her hand.

Melvin called out to Yukon. “I have to cut the rope.”

“No! What about the plan?” Kitty asked.

“I’m sorry,” Melvin said. “I sever the rope or I sever your hand.”

Kitty chose the rope. She couldn’t lose the hand. It was her husband’s favorite hand.

Melvin held up his forefinger and produced a talon. He raised his hand to make a swift cut, but before he could strike; the bricks gave way under Geoff’s feet and he fell over the edge. Yukon struggled to stay on the roof, but the weight proved too much for him and he followed the path Geoff blazed before him.

The sudden added weight tightened the loop around Kitty’s wrist, and she found herself without a hand and falling like Luke in The Empire Strikes Back.

Yukon reached out and managed to grab her hand, but unfortunately; it wasn’t the one still attached. Melvin dove after her and was able to reach her, but not before she passed out from shock.

“She’s alright,” Melvin yelled up to her worried husband. I’ll take her into Shoe Carnival and come back for you. Just… hang in there.”

“Well… things went south alright,” Mick said, as he and Evan watched over the edge of the ship.

“Why the hell did the ship stop?” Evan asked.

“Do you think they’re onto us?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“Are you two alright?” Mick yelled down to a dangling Geoff and Yukon.

“Yes,”Geoff replied. “Keep working; we’ll climb up.”

“We can pull you up,” Mick said.

“Getting in the ship is more important,” Yukon yelled. “Go, we’re fine.”

As Evan and Mick’s heads disappeared from view, Yukon and Geoff began working to free their wrists and ascend the rope. Yukon managed to get free easily since his loop didn’t have additional weight, but Geoff was stuck as long as Yukon was below him.

“I can’t loosen the rope.”

“If you can help me swing, I’ll drop back down onto Shoe Carnival.”

“Done.”

The two began kicking and in no time, Yukon dropped down safely onto the roof.

“See if that did the trick,” Yukon yelled to Geoff.

“Boom. I’m ou… Oh what the fuck is that?”

Yukon followed where Geoff’s finger. At the center of the ship, was a platform that was lowering. On it, was a creature resembling a mutant gorilla. It was just staring at them, like it was waiting for a green light. It creeped both men out.

“It’s just watching us,” Yukon said. “That’s creepy as fuck.”

The platform came to a stop and a handful of seconds passed, as the men just watched the beast stare back at them. Then, with no warning, the beast roared into the air and lept from the platform, like it was pissed it didn’t go lower.

As it landed in the street, the pavement gave way, leaving massive footprints in the asphalt. Yukon and Geoff both jumped a bit and Geoff hurried down the rope to repeat the action Yukon pulled to reach the rooftop.

The beast was a couple blocks away, but it was closing fast. Yukon told Geoff they had to lure it away from Shoe Carnival and away from Kitty. As the two descended the ladder, they ran into Hook and Honey, who were on their way up to the roof.

“Run!” Geoff barked at them.

Neither Hook nor Honey were dumb enough to ask questions, when someone yelled ‘run’ like that. They turned and ran back out onto the street. As Hook exited, he looked down the street, then back to Yukon and Geoff as if to say ‘too late.’

Yukon and Geoff skidded to a halt, and they saw Hook and Honey become enveloped in a huge shadow. The sound of the beast’s running ceased for a second, as he jumped into the air and landed directly in front of Hook with a loud thud.

Hook was knocked down and Honey screamed. The beast rose up and when it did, it’s large, massive arm, swatted Honey with a backhand that sent her flying into the shoe store and almost took out Geoff in the process.

Honey was nearly embedded into the wall. She was dead. Dead as shit. Hook tried to right himself, but the beast snatched him up with one hand and hurled him down the street into a stop sign. And that’s exactly what he did. He stopped.

Yukon grabbed Geoff by the shoulder and ran for the side exit. The Stamp Zzod noticed them running and watched a bit before starting after them.

“How do we stop that thing?” Geoff asked.

“We don’t; we run from it.”

“I’m thinking now that I should’ve climbed up the rope, not down.”

“I’m thinking we shouldn’t have put all the guns into those bags and tied them to a giant metal kite in the fucking sky.”

“Don’t you love it when a plan comes together?”

“I don’t know,” Yukon said. “When that happens, let me know.”

 

***

 

While Geoff and Yukon were busy occupying the Stamp Zzod, Mick and Evan snuck aboard the mother ship. The hallways were quiet; no one was around.

“Where is everyone?” Evan asked in a whisper.

“I don’t know; maybe they’re napping.”

A door creaked open and a really fat alien waddled out, zipping up its pants. The alien, caught off guard, sees Mick and Evan and fumbles for his sidearm. Mick and Evan were also caught off guard, because this was the first fat alien they had seen and it was wearing a, Make America Great Again hat from way back in 2016 and a t-shirt, probably 3X, that said, Me So Horny, which is conveniently located right next to Shoe Carnival. They snap out of their daze and the two of them pounce on the alien, leaving nothing but a puddle, a trucker-style hat and a 3X Me So Horny  t-shirt behind.

“I wonder how he got the shirt.” Evan said.

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Mick said.

The two proceeded down the hall and opened the first door they came to. The room was empty, except for some tables, chairs and a…

“Is that a vending machine?” Evan asked.

“I think so; it must be their break room.”

Out of curiosity, Evan put in some change into the alien vending machine and made a selection. To his surprise, a bag of Sun Chips started to fall, but then got hung up in the metal ring. Evan hit the machine and started to shake it. “God damn it.”

“Um Hun, remember what we came here for.”

“I know; I just can’t stand it when they get hung up like that.”

Mick patted his pouting husband on the back and took his hand. They left the break room without the Sun Chips and headed down the winding hall. They could hear voices coming from behind the double doors straight ahead.

“Okay, this is it. Are you ready?” Mick asked.

Evan, wishing he had something really cool to say, like from an action movie, just said, “Yep.”

Just as the two were about to go Bruce Willis, Die Hard on the aliens, (II, III, IV and V sucked) an alien was approaching from behind. He was dressed all in purple and wearing a gold crown on his head. He looked like a registered sex offender Barney the dinosaur. It was obvious to the duo, that this was the alien’s leader.

“This ship must be the one that houses all the fat ones,” Mick said. “We’re two for two.”

“That’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen,” Evan said.

t’Evar, who recognized the President and his husband, narrowed his eyes at the two men.

“Brfut mutha.” You mutha fuckers!

To Mick’s surprise, Evan responded. “Uew Kei$ha!” Asshole!

“Where did you learn that? Mick asked.

“From one of the aliens at that Starbucks.”

“I am like super hot for you now,” Mick said. “What does it mean?”

“I’m not sure, but it sounds horrible.”

t’Evar coughed to get their attention.

Mick and Evan opened their mouths and t’Evar could see their razor sharp teeth.

“You owe me some Sun Chips dipshit,” Evan yelled.

The aliens from behind the door must have heard all the yelling. The door, now to Evan and Mick’s back, opened, revealing a dozen or more Inkaku.

 

 

Crouching Alien, Hidden Shoebox

 

On the top floor of the Homeland Security Building, Anna Naranja and Langhorne Atherholt were keeping watch just outside the lab, as Lunchbox and Fritz were feverishly working on Fritz’s chemical weapon.

Anna and Langhorne finally had some alone time to discuss their shared near-death experience.

“I really thought that was it,” Anna confessed.

“I did too; It got me thinking.”

“Same here.”

“Anna, the world is getting insane. Well, more insane. First aliens, then zombies, and now vampires.”

“Yeah, I doubt anything would shock me anymore.”

“Marry me.”

“What?” Anna asked in shock.

“Marry me.”

“Lang… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

“We shouldn’t overreact to almost dying.”

“I’m not; I should’ve asked you months ago. I wanted to. Hell, I bought a ring and everything.”

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you?”

“Well we were deep into season 4 of Game of Thrones and it never seemed like the right time.”

Anna slapped Langhorne’s shoulder and smiled. “Stupid.” He always knew how to make her laugh.

“I love you, Anna. I really do, even more than Game of Thrones.”

“Wow,” she said with a smile. “That much?”

“I do, so marry me. We don’t need an actual wedding. Who’d come to a wedding during an apocalypse anyway? We just need to say the words. We can do it right here. Right now.”

Anna threw her arms around him, “Oh Langhorne…”

“I love you, Anna.”

“We love you too,” she said.

“We?”

Anna took his hand and guided it to her stomach. “Yes. We.”

“How?”

“Oh I think you know how.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I found out the morning before the Inkaku arrived. I didn’t want to…”

“No, I get it; I totally get it. I’m just… Wow. How can I be so excited when the world is falling apart around us?”

“You are happy though?”

“Yes, I am. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Oh, Anna… We’re having a baby!”

Suddenly, the doors to the lab flew open, nearly knocking the two over and definitely ruining the moment.

“We did it,” Doctor Rommel shouted. “We fucking did it! -Oh, what’s that now? I’m sorry, were you two making out or something?”

“It’s fine, Fritz. What did you do?” Langhorne asked as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

“I got the formula just right and I have tested it. It will kill the Inkaku on contact; I’m about 66.6 percent sure of it.”

“That’s a disturbing percentage,” Anna said.

“And it won’t hurt humans?” Langhorne asked.

“Well, almost.”

“Fritz, whatever happened to, ‘It won’t hurt humans at all?'”

“I was wrong, but it’s not that bad. There’s just a bit of a side effect associated with it.”

“Like?” Anna asked.

“It may give you violent diarrhea.”

“Oh yeah, not bad at all,” Anna said.

“There’s just a small chance. Most people won’t even notice.”

“So we’re good here?” Lunchbox asked as he walked out carrying a metal briefcase.

Langhorne looked down at the case. “Is that it?”

Lunchbox opened the case. It was lined with thick foam, except for a dozen slots to insert vials. Only two of those slots were filled.

“That’s it? That’s all of it?” Langhorne asked.

“Yep,” Lunchbox said. “Gotta make ’em count.”

Fritz pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up with his forefinger. “Let’s get these to the President.”

“We’re not going,” Langhorne said, as Fritz and Lunchbox turned to leave. His hand holding Anna’s tightly.

“We’re not?” Anna asked.

“I’m sorry guys; I really am. Anna is pregnant. I need to get her away from all this.”

“Where are we gonna go that’s safe, Lang?”

“Detroit.”

Anna just stared at him. Lunchbox and Fritz too.

“Okay, safer. Kinda. At least there are no aliens there.”

“What about us?” Fritz asked. “What about saving the world?”

“Oh I’ll get you to the President,” Lunchbox said. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve been trained in Krav Maga and I know my way around a pistol.”

“Well you had me until you called it a ‘pistol’,” Fritz responded nervously.

“Go,” Lunchbox told Anna and Langhorne. “I’ll see to it that these get to the President, regardless if Fritz makes it or not.”

“Not helping! Not helping at all,” Fritz cried.

Langhorne walked over to them. “Thank you.”

“Get out of here you two and go take care of that baby. Remember, Stanley is a great name.”

“Yeah, not naming my baby that,” Langhorne laughed.

Anna hugged Lunchbox the best she could. He was nearly as wide as he was tall.

“Maybe his middle name,” she said to him. “Maybe.”

 

 

***

 

Eastwood, Katie, Tad, Rose and Apollo Greyskull were making their way to Shoe Carnival to meet up with the others. They could’ve used the now collapsed tunnels to pass safely to Shoe Carnival, if the White House wasn’t leveled in the bombing, but now they had to zig-zag through the streets and avoid any Inkaku along the way.

“I’ll bet Shoe Carnival is the only store in a twenty mile radius that hasn’t been looted,” Eastwood said.

“I just hope my brother is okay,” Tad said for the uptenth time since they headed out.

Tad caught a flash out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to see a dirty man, probably in his late sixties carrying an RPG and jumping from roof top to roof top, like a character right out of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. He quickly vanished out of sight. “Did you guys just see that?”

“See what?” Rose asked.

“There was an old dude carrying a bazooka, who was jumping from rooftop to rooftop. He looked like a dirty Jason Bourne.”

The group stared at him in disbelief. “I saw him; I swear.”

“I think the stress of the world ending is finally getting to you,” Apollo said.

Tad pouted. Rose took his hand. “I believe you Tad.”

Tad lit up like a ten dollar hooker in Vegas.

“I hate to break this Taster’s Choice moment up, but we’ve got company,” Eastwood said.

Six aliens were just up ahead by a Chipotle. Katie felt a twinge of sadness, because it was the same Chipotle that they found the poo in and put in shoeboxes. It reminded her of Darryl number one’s death. She felt like it was her fault that he died, probably because it was her fault that he died.

“What are they doing?” Tad asked. The six aliens had seen the group, but instead of attacking them; they were hunched over, clutching their stomachs.

“OMG, they must have eaten there,” Eastwood said.

“Oh, bad move,” Rose said.

The aliens had eaten at Chipotle about half an hour ago. They were curious about Earth food and wanted to see how it tasted. Unbeknownst to them, they had picked one of the worse possible “restaurants” to try. The other being DC Weiners. The only real difference between the two, was that one made it difficult to keep it in and the other made it hard to get it out.  The pain in their stomachs all kicked in at about the same time. They had each been taking turns running to the bathroom, because it was coming out at both ends.

The group didn’t have the heart to shoot them; they just passed by them and when Katie was just about to clear the last one, he projectile vomited all over her shirt.

“Oh! That is disgusting,” she whimpered.

“At least it came out of that end,” Tad said in a failed attempt to console her.

The alien said, “vRiippe jbridges,” which translated into, “Sorry dude.” Katie got the gist of it and just nodded her head.

“That smells so nasty,” Rose said. “Like tiny burnt sausages, smothered in cheese and motor oil.”

“More like stale beer and semen, filtered through a gym sock,” Tad said.

“How do you know what that smells like?” Eastwood asked.

“No, I’ve smelled something like that before during an autopsy, and that guy died after winning a hotdog eating competition,” Apollo told them.

“Wow. What is your life?” Rose asked Apollo.

“Oh Kanye… I think I’m gonna hurl. I really wish I had a shirt to change into,” Katie said.

Apollo produced some t-shirts from his backpack. “Try one of these. I found a couple shirts at the sex dungeon, and thought they might come in handy if we needed to strip them for bandages or, you know, if we came across a situation such as this.”

“Or for toilet paper,” Tad added needlessly. For some reason, that’s what popped into his head when he saw old shirts.

Katie removed her soiled blouse and gratefully put on one of the shirts. Nobody peeked at her in her bra, because nobody wanted to see that. Some of the aliens noticed the event and started vomiting again. When she was done, the group looked at the shirt and erupted with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” She asked and looked down at her shirt which said, Me So Horny and had a picture of a floppy purple dildo on it. Me So Horny was an adult erotica store, ironically right next to the Shoe Carnival. Actually, all three locations were convenient to a Shoe Carnival.

To make matters worse, the shirt was also one of those open-sided, sleeveless numbers that was a big hit with breakdancers back in the eighties; and she spilled out of it easily.

“What’s on the other one?” Katie asked in hopes of upgrading.

Apollo held the other shirt up for her to see. It was a sensible shirt with a picture of Bob Dole on it and the words Don’t blame me, I voted for Dole.

“I’ll just stick with this one,” she said.

“Wow,” said Tad. “I sorta want to meet the fat bastard these shirts belong to, but at the same time; the idea scares me.”

“Alright, let’s keep moving,” Eastwood said. “We’re just a couple blocks away from Shoe Carnival now.”

“I hope my brother is okay,” Tad mentioned yet again.

“I kinda hope he doesn’t make it,” Eastwood said quietly to Apollo.

“Oh look,” Katie said to Rose, as she directed her attention to the corner of Chipotle. “It’s your shoe box!”

“Don’t you fucking touch that,” Rose said.

The Facts of Life

Tad, Rose, Katie and the waiter formerly known as Tom, were hunkered down in the sex dungeon, waiting for the commotion outside to die down before attempting to search for the others.

Shortly after the four formulated their, run like hell strategy for reaching the White House, they heard what sounded like another attack, followed by a series of muffled bombing noises. The bombing noises soon stopped and the ruckus outside the dungeon came to a sharp and sudden halt. The silence that followed was enough to peak Apollo’s interest and the others were getting stir crazy enough that they were willing to risk it, just to get moving.

“What’s it look like?” Katie asked.

“Oh you guys need to see this,” Apollo said.

One by one, they ascended the stairs of the sex dungeon and into a live action version of Van Gogh’s, Starry Night.

Smoke from what was left of the White House darkened the sky, as numerous small fires from death spheres that littered the ground, provided a much needed light across the landscape. There in the center, stood a lone figure breathing heavy with anger and holding sphere guts in each hand.

“Is that… Eastwood?” Rose asked.

“Eastwood!” Tad yelled out. “Did you just whoop all these things asses?”

Eastwood turned and looked at them, but remained silent. He was still trying to calm down. Tad started toward him and then Apollo. Rose and Katie reluctantly followed closely behind them.

“Dude,” Tad said eloquently. “You are the shiznit!”

“Eastwood, what happened to the White House?” Apollo asked. “Was The President in there?”

Eastwood looked behind him to the smoldering rubble, where the White House once stood.

“He was, but don’t worry about him. They started from the end and slowly bombed the length of the building. They were trying to squeeze him out. He’s smarter than that; he probably escaped through one of the tunnels.”

“I wonder where they could be now? Was my brother with them?” Tad asked.

“He was and they’re probably at Shoe Carnival.”

“Shoe Carnival?” All four asked in unison.

“Yes, Shoe Carnival. The main tunnel is blocked off; I set the charges myself. The other three tunnels lead to Shoe Carnival. I have no fucking idea why.”

“Weird,” Katie said.

“Yes, really fucking weird,” Eastwood concluded as he looked off in the distance, like Washington crossing the Delaware.

“We gotta get to that Shoe Carnival.” Tad said, obviously worried about his brother.

“We will get you to your brother and maybe while we’re at it, we can, I don’t know, find President Bacon and save the planet too. You know, if we have time.” Apollo said.

 

 

* * *

 

t’Evar came out of the bathroom and hurled the Space Boobs magazine at one of his minions, who was sitting at one of the control panels. The magazine hit him in the face and landed on the floor, opening up to the centerfold page. It was a picture of a Darcranian with six boobs. Personally, he thought six boobs was one too many boob, but he thought it better to remain silent, since his leader was still in a foul mood. The Staff Sergeant hesitatingly approached the Supreme Leader.

“Your Excellency, I can report two more confirmed kills. Neither was the President, but they were from his party.”

“Good, the more dead humans the better. I want this planet scrubbed clean of the human slime. Except for Detroit, leave them in peace, those poor bastards have already suffered enough.”

“As you wish, your juiciness.”

t’Evar left the control room and went back down the hall, to check on the doctor’s progress.

As soon as that weirdo doctor is finished transmutating Mardjii’s corpse into a Stamp Zzod, I can finish this war, he thought.

He was just approaching the door to La’burypraiv’s lab, when the door fell with a crash to the floor. t’Evar barely had time to move out of the way; it almost crushed him. Before he could ask what the hell was going on, a creature came through the door. It had to duck its head down, so that it wouldn’t hit the top of the door frame.

Holy shit. This thing must at least be ten feet tall if not more.

La’burypraiv came out right behind it. “Behold, your Stamp Zzod.”

The Stamp Zzod had two powerful hind legs and two over-sized arms, which were ripped with muscle. The arms and legs and the way it moved resembled a gorilla, but that’s where the resemblance ended. The creature’s chest was ripped; it looked like it had been body building all its life. It stood there, cramped in the hallway, motionless save for the heavy breathing.

“Is it under control, Doctor?”

“Yes, the shock suppository is inserted and online. I just lost control momentarily, while changing the batteries in the remote.”

“One, two, three, four, five…” t’Evar counted. “What are the five nipples for?

The doctor just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, why not five nipples.

The Stamp Zzod’s forarms were the size of massive boulders and sitting atop its short neck was a gigantic, bucktoothed, head.

“What’s wrong with it’s teeth? Why doesn’t he have fangs?”

“Well, you were in a hurry. I didn’t have time for any orthodontic procedures.”

It had two pointy ears and razor sharp claws. He took a closer look at one of the forearms, which had a tattoo of a six-boobed Darcranian, licking a melting Bardallo on stick; similar to an Earth popsicle, only a Bardallo was a space rat. It was a very sexy tattoo.

“What the fuck?” t’Evar asked pointing to the tattoo.

The doctor shrugged again. “Mardjii was a dick, but he had great taste. I couldn’t bare to defile such art.”

“Fine. Does it understand its assignment?”

“Yes, he is quite clear on what he is to do. Total annihilation.”

“Does it speak?”

“He only grunts, but he understands what you are saying.”

“How do you know?”

“Tootie, I want you to rip that light fixture out of the wall.”

With one quick motion, the Stamp Zzod grabbed the hanging light fixture and pulled it out. Plaster rained down everywhere.

“Hey, those are expensive,” t’Evar said.

“Sorry.”

“You named it Tootie?”

“Yes, your Excellency. I am really into this Earth show called, The Facts of Life.”

“As long as it does its job, La’burypraiv, I don’t care what you name it. Hand over the remote.”

“The pink button is Kill; the darker pink button is the anal shock if it disobeys you, and the light pink button is the anus suppository self-destruct button, should any trace of Mardjii’s personality remain and you need to destroy Tootie.”

t’Evar placed a hand on his head as a human would to symbolize the onset of a headache, “La’burypraiv, you dumbass… You know our species is color blind.”

“Oh yeah; my bad. Well, the top button is the shocker and the middle button explodes the ass.”

The Stamp Zzod stood perfectly still, waiting for its next command.

“Stamp Zzod, go now and kill the President and anyone that tries to get in your way.”

The Stamp Zzod remained still.

“La’burypraiv?”

“You have to call him Tootie, Highness.”

“For fuck’s sake, La’burypraiv… Tootie, go kill the President. Go kill them all.”

 

 

Cold War II: This Time It’s Personal

 

Eastwood was the first to the door. He flung it open and everyone hurried inside. Melvin was the last one in and a few spheres were hot on his trail. Eastwood slammed the door behind him.

“Is everyone okay?” Eastwood asked.

“I’m afraid not,” President Bacon said.

Eastwood looked around. “Sir, I saw Darryl and Larry with you out there. Did they get separated?”

“No. They… They didn’t make it.”

Eastwood’s head dropped. Larry was best man at his wedding. Darryl crashed it. The three of them had grown very close during the Trump years. Eastwood channeled his sorrow inward, converting it to anger. He would avenge them. Years ago, he had learned how to calm himself at a monastery in Tibet, where a monk had taught him all five of the Kung Fu animal styles. He didn’t want to become the man he was back when those men kidnapped his daughter. He had tracked them down in their country and murdered them all. Sure, they had it coming, but he turned savage and it was hard to turn it off after it was all over.

His Army Ranger training made him extremely lethal and he learned even more techniques during his time working with the counter terrorism unit in California. Anything not bolted down was a weapon to him and those kidnappers found that out the hard way.

He could feel that savage side of his personality fighting to break free and he was ready to release it. He would avenge Larry and Darryl or his name wasn’t Billary Eastwood.

Agents Anna Naranja and Langhorne Atherholt approached him cautiously. They could sense his anger growing inside him, as if some mystical force surrounded them. They considered Larry and Darryl family too. Anna wanted him to know their deaths were meaningful.

“They died a warrior’s death,” she said.

“They saved us all; we wouldn’t be here now if not for them. Darryl took out a dozen or more of them with his flamethrower. He shouted, ‘You’re fired’ and Larry commented that it was cool the first time he said it, but it was starting to get old. Larry had a smaller version of one of those spheres that he had captured, and was using its tractor beam to toss them into one another, before finally taking a blast meant for the President. With his dying breath, he used the beam to shield us from a few kamikaze spheres. That’s when you started sniping them. You drew their attention long enough for us to flee. Darryl created a wall of fire to hold them back as we ran away,” Langhorne said to Eastwood.

Eastwood looked relieved. That’s the way they would’ve wanted to go, he thought. It wasn’t enough to quench his blood lust though.

“Thank you,” he said to Anna and Langhorne. “Now lock the door behind me.”

“Wait!” Anna shouted, but it was too late. Eastwood was outside faster than anyone could react. Evan had never seen a human move so fast.

“He didn’t even have any weapons,” Anna said.

“He doesn’t need them,” Langhorne assured her.

Eggs broke the moment of silence to address the President. “Sir, what do we do now?”

Evan looked around at all the faces staring back at him. By the door, Anna and Langhorne, were all that was left of his Secret Service team. To their right, his Chief of Staff, “Eggs” Benedict and Director of Homeland Security, Stanley “Lunchbox” Johnson. Beside them, his VP Honey Ryder, comfortably tucked into the arms of the Director of FEMA, Hook Jericho. Sandwiching Evan was his husband, Mick Cage-Bacon and Melvin Morgan. Then there was Geoff, Marietta and Fritz behind him; huddled together on the floor next to Yukon and Kitty Catan.

“We all have been through a lot today. I know you’re tired. If you need rest, I understand, but I’m done running. I’m taking the fight to our enemies. I could use all the help I can get. Who’s with me?”

Nobody spoke. One at a time, beginning with Langhorne, they each accepted Evan’s call with a simple nod.

“We’re with you, sir; we’re done running as well,” Anna said.

No sooner had the words left her lips, a building rumbling thud shook the room.

“Run!” Anna screamed.

“No! Wait!” Langhorne implored.

“Kanye Christ! What the fuck was that?” Marietta asked.

“Are they bombing us?” Kitty asked.

Another thud resonated in the room, and shortly thereafter, another. Each shake, chipping away paint from the ceiling and walls.

“Whatever it is, it’s getting closer,” Yukon said.

“This reminds me of my movie, White Cock Down. There was this scene where me and my co-star, Jaime Fuxxx, were pinned down in the White House and the terrorists decided to start blowing up the building, from one side to the other in hopes of flushing us out,” Mick said.

“What did you do?” Kitty asked. “I didn’t see that one.”

“We escaped through the underground tunnels into the Shoe Carnival a block over and then we banged.”

“That tunnel actually exists; I’m amazed how accurate that movie was,” Evan said.

“I know right? I remember when we got the briefing after your election and we found that out. Then we recreated that scene the night we moved in. What a great night.”

Evan cleared his throat as his cheeks flush. A moment of quiet filled the room, no one wanted to follow that story. The silence ended with another loud boom.

“Okay, that one was really close,” Hook said.

“We gotta move; Mick’s plan is the best one we’ve got. Let’s go to Shoe Carnival. There, we’ll formulate our battle plan,” Evan said.

Fritz blurted out, “Sir! I need a lab. I’m no good to anyone if I don’t get to one.”

“I can take him to a lab, sir. There’s one in the Homeland Security building,” Lunchbox said.

“Fine. We’ll get to Shoe Carnival and then split up. Get Fritz to that lab, but take Agent Naranja and Agent Atherholt with you.”

“Sir! We need to be with you.” Langhorne said.

“You need to protect Fritz. That’s an order.”

“Yes sir.”

“We need every advantage we can get and if Nazi weirdo can find a way to give us an edge…”

“I understand, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. Now let’s get the fuck out of here before we’re buried alive.”

 

 

* * *

 

Lunchbox, Agent Naranja and Agent Atherholt surrounded Dr. Fritz Rommel, shielding him with their bodies. Besides the President, this Nazi doctor was the most important person in the universe right now. They were on their way to the Homeland Security building where there was a lab, so that the doctor could produce a concoction that would finally defeat the enemy once and for all.

“I hope the President and the others are okay back at that Shoe Carnival. I mean, can you imagine the shame of dying in a Shoe Carnival; I’d rather be found dead by my grandmother with my pants down, a belt tied around my neck with a giant erection,” Agent Langhorne Atherholt said. Everyone nodded in agreement, except for Dr. Rommel, who looked down at his pair of knock off K-Swiss shoes, that he bought there when they were having a BOGO sale. He only bought them, because he thought they were actually made by the Swiss, but he was wrong they were made in Taiwan.

The group didn’t get very far, before one of those light spheres whizzed past their heads. Lunchbox wasted no time; he dropped to one knee, took aim with his pistol and fired. The sphere shattered like a clay pigeon.

“Where did you learn to shoot like that?” Agent Anna Naranja asked.

The portly Director of Homeland Security wiped the sweat off his brow. “I was number one in my neighborhood in Duck Hunt on the NES.”

“Let’s keep moving; they know we’re here. That won’t be the last sphere we will encounter,” Langhorne said.

“It’s too bad there isn’t a sex dungeon nearby, so they wouldn’t be able to pick us up on their scopes,” Fritz said.

The group looked at him in surprise. “How do you know that?” Lunchbox asked.

Fritz turned red. “I did my doctorate on the limitations of electromagnetic waves, and how they can’t penetrate certain sound proof structures, which are typically sex dungeons.”

“Uh huh,” Langhorne said, not buying that explanation at all.

“Look!” Fritz said pointing to a park bench.

Everyone looked over to where Fritz was pointing. On the bench, lying face down was an old man, with a long white beard. He was wearing jeans, a dirty Van Halen t-shirt, a trench coat and no shoes. On the ground by the bench, were several empty wine bottles.

“Oh, that’s just Bob Barnes; he’s been around forever. Everyone on Capitol Hill knows him. That’s the bench he sleeps on; it’s his bench and he won’t let anyone else come near it,” Lunchbox said.

“Isn’t he worried about alien attacks?” Fritz asked.

“I wouldn’t worry about Bob Barnes; he can handle himself. He received a purple heart in Vietnam, because he was wounded taking out an entire Vietcong regiment single handedly. He was one of our best spies during the Cold War, but something happened to him after Rocky IV came out, and he just lacked the motivation to carry on. He gave it all up and decided to become a wino,” Lunchbox said.

The group walked past the bench and Fritz ever the curious doctor, went in to get a closer look at the squalid homeless man.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Langhorne yelled, but it was too late. In the blink of an eye, Bob Barnes grabbed the doctor around his skinny neck and began to choke him.

“Bob, he’s with us. He didn’t know that this was your bench,” Lunchbox said.

Bob Barnes looked at Lunchbox and smiled. He released Dr. Rommel, who started coughing and gasping for air.

“Been a long time Lunchbox. You still bare knuckle boxing in those underground Yakuza fights?”

It was hard to imagine the short, fat, mild-mannered Director of Homeland Security even swearing, let alone boxing the Japanese mafia. The more they were finding out about Lunchbox during the apocalypse, the more he surprised them.

“No, I finally gave that up. I’m just a plain old Director of Homeland Security now.”

“You were never just a plain old anything,” the wino said and smiled revealing two missing front teeth.

“You take care of yourself Bob; there are aliens attacking from all angles.”

Bob smiled again. “Oh, those things. I’m not worried about them; I’ve seen worse. Hell, one time, when I worked as Head of Security in the O Magazine building, I walked in on Oprah, tongue fucking a warm bagel in the bathtub she keeps in the center of her office. Nothing surprises me anymore. Anywho, where are you headed?”

“We are headed to the lab in the Homeland Security building. This doctor may be able to come up with a weapon to end this war.”

“Is that so,” he said and eyed the skinny doctor. “Well, don’t let me hold you up.”

“Take care of yourself Bob.”

“See you around Box.”

The group left the hobo on his bench to drink himself into a stupor. Langhorne went ahead to scout out the next street. He peered around the corner, and saw at least twenty aliens standing in front of a Starbucks. They looked different from any of the other aliens he had seen. They all had on these silver breastplates, with a hammer and sickle painted on them.

What the fuck? Why do these aliens have the Russian flag painted on their armor?

He wondered what they were doing, when a couple of aliens came out carrying coffees. They took them out of the coffee tray and passed them around. Langhorne saw that one cup had, DY%@((dy’6!$# written on it. Langhorne saw his opportunity and began to fire, while they hand their hands occupied. Anna and Lunchbox joined in the fight. Fritz as always, found something he could hide and cower behind. They each took cover behind an abandoned vehicle.

The aliens, who were momentarily surprised, gingerly set down their expensive coffees and took out their weapons. Except for one, who kept sipping his coffee with one hand and blindly firing with the other. The trio was firing round after round, but not many of the bullets were landing. They fired a shit-ton of ammo before Langhorne realized something.

“That armor is bullet proof. Aim for their heads,” Langhorne shouted.

The trio started aiming for their heads and got a few, but Lunchbox was out of bullets and so was Langhorne.

“Shit!” Lunchbox belted out. “Quick, fly around the planet, until we’re back to a time when we had more bullets.”

Anna had one clip left and was able to take out two more of the aliens before she ran out. There were still twelve of them left, and after a few moments of not seeing any firing or hearing them reload, the aliens realized they were out of ammo and begun to charge.

Langhorne ran over to Anna. He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. That would be all he would have time for, because they were all about to die and there wasn’t enough time for him to say anything, except think that he wished he had asked her to marry him. Anna closed her eyes; Langhorne looked over at Lunchbox, who was staring back and nodded his head. They had about another thirty seconds to live, when they heard a huge explosion. Langhorne peeked around the car, and there was literally nothing but scorched Earth where the aliens were standing just a second ago. He looked up and saw Bob Barnes on the roof of Starbucks, lying on his stomach with an RPG. Langhorne looked up at him and waved. Barnes gave a little two-finger salute and then he took off running. He leaped over to the next rooftop, and then again on another one and kept doing that, until he was out of sight. He looked like a dirty Jason Bourne.

“What the hell kind of aliens were they?” Langhorne asked.

“They were Russian,” Lunchbox said.

“Russia has aliens?” Langhorne asked astonished.

“Before my phone battery died again, I saw on the internet, where some of the aliens were defecting and joining Putin’s Foreign Intelligence Service,” Lunchbox said grabbing the doctor who was hiding behind a dumpster. He had peed his pants again.

“Jesus! Where do you think Barnes went?” Anna asked.

“Where else. He’s going to fight the Russians,” Lunchbox said.

“More importantly, where was he hiding the RPG?” Fritz wondered aloud.