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.

Balls of Fury

Yukon and Eastwood entered the White House, while everyone waited right outside. For the White House to be open like this, did not bode well. Numerous windows were busted; there obviously was an attack either by rioters, looters or aliens. Sometimes, in extreme circumstances such as these, people were more dangerous than monsters.

There were bodies scattered in disarray about the floor, but none were human. They were all alien. Their suits were different than what they had previously seen. These aliens seemed to go for a less armored, more streamlined look, but it did them no good apparently.

From the looks of things, they didn’t stand a chance. Maybe things were looking up. Outside, Lunchbox and Eggs were keeping watch as Kitty, Marietta and Fritz took what little rest they could.

Yukon peeked around the busted door to the others outside.

“It’s clear; there’s no one here, just some lifeless aliens. Prepare yourselves though; it’s a massacre in here. Whoever killed these guys made a big mess.”

“There’s no one here?” Kitty asked as Yukon helped her up. “I thought surely we’d find someone.”

“What the hell do we do now? Where do we go?” Marietta asking no one in particular.

“Perhaps we can find some clues as to where everyone went,” Fritz said.

Eggs turned to him, “You need to keep focused on figuring out these aliens, like what makes them tick and how to destroy them.”

“I’ve never stopped thinking about it. I keep running what I know in my head over and over again. Sure, a lab would be preferred, but until I can run some actual tests, all I have are theories.”

“I’ll bite. What’s your theory?” Lunchbox asked.

“Well, a typical fart is composed of about 59 percent nitrogen, 21 percent hydrogen, 9 percent carbon dioxide, 7 percent methane and 4 percent oxygen. About one percent is hydrogen sulfide gas and mercaptans, which contain sulfur.”

“Oh, I am really sorry I asked,” Lunchbox said apologetically to the group.

“No, listen. I think one or more of these components is highly toxic to the Inkaku. It may be as simple as finding which one, or which combination is the culprit. In the right quantities, we may be able to fight them chemically with no side effects to us whatsoever. My money is on hydrogen sulfide, sulfur and methane, but until I test the theory, it’s just that… A theory.”

Eggs placed his hand on Fritz’s shoulder. “Well let’s get you to a lab then, Weirdo.”

Suddenly, Kitty screamed out a warning to everyone. In the distance a ship dropped out of the clouds. The group ducked into the White House and peeked out of the busted windows to see what was happening.

A bay door opened at the belly of the ship and dozens of spheres rushed out, and zoomed over the White House.

“What the fuck is happening?” Marietta asked.

“Come on, let’s head to the roof and see if we can get a better vantage point,” Eastwood said.

The group ran upstairs and cautiously out onto the roof. Eastwood reminded everyone to stay low and out of sight. Looking out, they could see the spheres swarming the ground and firing on a small group of people.

“That’s the President!” Kitty yelled.

Eastwood darted off to the right, where there was an abandoned sniper rifle on the ground, presumably from a sniper who abandoned his post in a rush, and began firing at the spheres closest to the President. He took out two and caught the attention of President Bacon. Through the scope, Eastwood could see the President yelling orders to the others, and they began running back to the White House. Eastwood fired just once more, before emptying the rifle. Luckily, that shot hit a sphere just right and it crashed into three others, before it came to rest and exploded. The ones that were hit followed suit.

“Great shot!” Yukon cheered.

“Look!” Eggs exclaimed, as he pointed to a hulking figure carrying a body over its shoulder into a building opposite the others.

“We have to save them,” Kitty said.

“We have to save the President!” reacted Eggs.

Yukon agreed with Eggs. “He’s right; we have to save the President first.”

A few of the spheres broke formation and started heading for the roof.

“We need to move! Now!” Eastwood yelled as he tossed the rifle aside.

The group ran downstairs, not knowing who had survived the attack, or who they would run into.

 

* * *

 

t’Evar Orbus enjoyed all the perks of the position of being Supreme Leader, including the premier cable package. He was currently watching the Earth show, Game of Thrones. His army commander, Yomamasaid, walked in his room without knocking and t’Evar quickly put his pants back on.

“Damn it Yomamasaid! You need to knock next time; you can’t just barge into someone’s room.”

“Sorry, Supreme Leader.” Of course Yomamasaid knew he should knock, but choose not to because he thought it was funny. “I have an update on the attack.”

“Well, what is it? You can see I’m busy here.”

“We have conquered most of the Earth, all except for the United States and that place they call Russia.”

“What is happening in Russia?”

“Someone named Putin killed a lot of men single handedly. The Inkaku he did not kill, joined one of his organizations called the, Foreign Intelligence Service. They seem to idolize the man now, and they all have taken off their shirts,” Yomamasaid said.

t’Evar just waved his hand. “Whatever, we will worry about them later. More importantly, I want this President of the United States and all of his people dead.”

“As you know, they wiped out all of our ninjas, so we deployed hyper depth charges, but the President and his friends seem to be taking them out.”

t’Evar paused Game of Thrones and swiftly kicked his army commander in his alien balls. Yomamasaid who always wore a cup, only flinched.

“You idiot! Of course they are going to take them out, if they’ve taken out our elite ninja force; they can easily take out our depth charges. I guess I have to do everything myself,” t’Evar said and stormed out of the room.

He walked down the hall right to La’burypraiv’s lab. t’Evar had to walk through a maze of glass jars filled with formaldehyde and weird heads. There was also a female Inkaku blow up doll and a stack of Space Boobs’ magazines.

Hey, I’ve been looking for this issue, he thought as he rolled up last month’s and put it down his pants and under his shirt. He saw the “doctor” hunched over a robotic arm.

“What the hell, La’burypraiv! Why do you have so much weird shit in here?”

The doctor looked up at t’Evar. He had on head gear with thick lenses attached to it, so he could better see what he was doing. His eyes looked like giant glazed donuts when you looked at them from the outside.

“I find it all very useful. Believe me, nothing goes to waste. In fact, if it wasn’t for this, ‘weird shit’ I wouldn’t have been able to modify the Stamp Zzod as you requested.

“That’s why I’m here. Is he done yet? I need to send him to Earth to take care of some Earth assholes.”

“He is almost ready. The Latreen worms need about ten more minutes to finish eating away Mardjii’s frontal cortex, then I just need to make one last modification. I am giving him the legs of an Utapruty, so he will have super speed and agility.”

“Okay, well hurry up. I’m beginning to tire of these Earthlings. What are you working on there?”

“I’m programming this robotic arm to give people the finger and make other obscene gestures. I’m going to patent it and sell my product on the Galactic Exchange. Everybody will want one. Just think, when some other spaceship cuts you off in traffic, you just let robot arm do the talking. It also doubles as a sex tool.”

 

The Galactic Exchange is the equivalent to Earth’s Amazon. “Huh, put me down for three of them. I think that might make a nice stocking stuffer. Okay, let me know as soon as the Stamp Zzod is ready.”

t’Evar left the weird doctor to his weirdness and headed to the command control room. The room was completely empty.

Where the hell is all my staff?

He could hear shouting coming from just outside the room. He went over to the break room and looked in the window. Two of his staff were fighting, while the rest of them were in a circle surrounding them. They were laughing, clapping and some were taking bets.

t’Evar kicked the break room door in. “What the hell is this, some kind of god damn Fight Club?”

Everyone begins to scatter, like cockroaches when the light has been turned on. One Inkaku dropped the money he was holding and ran. t’Evar picked up the money and put in his pocket. He walked back into the control room, where everyone had resumed their positions.

“Somebody give me a status report.”

“Sir, the President and his friends are defeating our hyper depth charges,” the Staff Sergeant said.

“I know that already dumbass. I want to know where they are now.”

“Sorry sir, the President and his friends are in the Shit House.”

“That’s White House someone else corrected.”

“We’ve located them all there, except for the ones a few hyper charges managed to kill. Four of them have gone off our scopes.”

“How could they go off our scopes?”

“They are probably in a sex dungeon; they’re all over the place down there. All the surgical steel interferes with our sensors.”

“Alright, keep trying to take out that pain in the ass President, while that quack finishes modifying the Stamp Zzod. Let me know if there are any changes.” t’Evar took out the issue of Space Boobs from his pants. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

 

* * *

 

Rose and Tad hurry downstairs, into one of the three sex dungeons located within a one mile radius from the White House, where Katie and Apollo Greyskull, commonly known as Tom the waiter, are rounding up supplies.

“Rose! I’m so glad to see you. In all the confusion, I didn’t know who made it out of there,” Katie said and noticed Tad’s face darkened.

“He doesn’t know what happened to Geoff,” Rose said in a hushed tone.

“Oh. Oh no. Tad I’m sorry; I’m sure he’s okay.

Tad was uncharacteristically quiet.

“How did you guys find us?” Apollo asked in hopes of shifting the topic.

“We were pinned down next door. Tad and I saw you run in here and we thought you were carrying Geoff. After those things left, we ran over here to find you and Tom the waiter.”

“Actually, my name is Apol-”

“OMG! Is this another sex dungeon?” Rose interrupted.

“Yes,” Apollo sighed.

“How many sex dungeons are in this town?”

“That’s what I said!” Katie expressed gleefully.

“Where did those spheres go?” Apollo asked.

“They went after the others. I think they flew off in the direction of the White House.”

“Then we need to get to the White House,” Apollo said in a spot on David Caruso impersonation.

“Dude,” Rose said. “When did you get so bad ass?”

Before he could respond, Tad said, “He’s right. My brother is there. I know it. I can feel it.”

“Sweetie,” Rose said as she placed her hand in his. “You’re sitting on a Sybian.”

 

Wake Up, Asshole

 

In an unfamiliar, dark room, a voice gently calls out…

Tom… Tom… Wake up…

“Why do you guys insist on calling me that? I’ve told you, my name is not Tom,” mumbled Tom the waiter. “It’s–”

“Tom!” A voice interrupts as a tight fist swiftly and forcefully strikes Tom the waiter in the doodle sack.

“Umgh!”

“Wake up, asshole!” Katie yelled.

Still reeling from his nuggets getting pounded, Tom the waiter picks his head up and looks around.

“Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know. We got separated during the attack. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I remember seeing President Bacon heading toward us. His husband and Melvin were by his side. I remember we all starting walking their direction. And then… That’s it. Flash forward to you destroying my chances for children.”

“Well, we were attacked. The President was smiling at us and then his face went slack. He pointed above us and yelled, ‘look out.’ Before we could react, a small fleet of those sphere thingies were firing at us.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“You were knocked out; the first blast hit Lorenzo and he flew into you.”

“Lorenzo? No… Is he?”

“I’m afraid so. You were lying under him, unconscious. When I tried to roll him off of you, his body rolled to the right and his head rolled to the left.”

“Oh my god!”

“That’s what I said. It was pretty gross. Anywho, I picked you up over my shoulder and ran in here. I don’t know who survived or where they went; it was chaos.”

Tom the waiter couldn’t believe it. Lorenzo was like a third father to him. In just a little over a year since he met Lorenzo, he had been through a lot and Lorenzo was always there for him. He was there when his dads got divorced, when his one dad, Reginald, was remarried to some asshole named Dave from La Jolla, California, and when Reginald died on his honeymoon from what the doctors called masturbation complications.

Tom the waiter didn’t hear anything else Katie was saying. She continued talking while he thought about Lorenzo. He picked his self off the floor and tried to figure out where they were.

“You know?” Katie asked after she stopped rambling.

“Sure,” he responded; not knowing what she was talking about.

“Well, at least he can’t get pregnant now,” she ended.

He?  What the hell is she talking about? Tom the waiter thought to himself.He dared not ask. He didn’t want her to know he wasn’t listening, but more than that, he didn’t want her to start up again.

“Katie, where are we? I can’t see a thing.”

“I’m not sure. It was one of those double doors outside of a building that leads into the basement. I’m just not sure whose basement.”

Katie and Tom the waiter, moved slowly to one of the walls of the room, feeling for a light switch. The light from Katie’s Nintendo DS was the only thing keeping them from total darkness.

Tom found a switch and flipped it. Light spilled from the one bulb hanging in the center of the room; replacing what darkness it could. The two turned to find a large, awkward looking bench under the light source. It was bound in leather and had chains on the corners ending in pink, fuzzy cuffs. Next to it, a camera on a tripod and a table filled with sex tools. The walls were adorned with various costumes and more toys.

“Kanye Christ,” Katie said. “How many sex dungeons are in this town?”

 

 

 * * *

 

One year, one month, one week and a day before the invasion by the Inkaku, just outside Tulsa, Oklahoma, (Tom the waiter) is getting dressed in his hotel room before heading out to a Kings of Leon concert. As he stands before the mirror running pomade through his hair, he glances at the reflection of Onya Rubinoff seductively crawling across the bed toward him.

“Must you go so soon?” She asked in a thick Russian accent.

“I’m sorry, darling; duty calls.”

She reaches the edge of the bed and slowly rolls to her back. She reaches for his hand and pulls him down to her level. He drops to his knees as she pulls his head to hers and whispers in his ear, “But third time is the charm. Is that not what they say in your country?”

(Tom the waiter) makes for the door. He stops by the dresser for his Walther PPK, 7.65mm pistol and tucks it in his pants behind his jacket and disappears behind a door.

As he drives into Tulsa, (Tom the waiter) thinks about Onya and how his night could’ve gone differently, had she been successful and completed her mission. He wasn’t overly excited about attempts on his life, but as long as they kept sending women built like her, he’d happily take his chances.

Once the amphitheater was in view, (Tom the waiter) switched focus to the task at hand. The target was a man by the name of Lorenzo Abbatantuono. Every picture in his file was a picture of him eating. There was never a clear shot of his face. He didn’t get why, The Company wanted him dead and he didn’t care. All he knew was, it was supposed to look like an accident or a robbery gone wrong. Simple enough. He’d done similar jobs hundreds of times before. The less he knew, the better.

The Company got him seats next to Lorenzo. The plan was to make friends and get him too drunk to drive home. Lorenzo’s new friend would offer to drive him home and once he passed out in the car, simply drive to a lake and move him to the driver’s seat. The water would do the rest.

Now seated, the concert was well underway. Lorenzo had yet to show. The opening act was Vanilla Ice and (Tom the waiter) was beginning to wish Onya had been successful in assassinating him.

After an excruciating forty minutes of Ice Ice Baby and other songs that sounded exactly like Ice Ice Baby, his torment was over and still, no Lorenzo. (Tom the waiter) decided to freshen up and get some nachos. The line for the toilet was short, but the line for the nachos seemed endless. He decided to wait regardless. His mark might not even show.

He added himself to the end of the line behind a hulk of a man, who already smelled of food. “Geez. I guess everyone wants nachos tonight,” he said to the man in front of him, trying to pass the time.

“I know, hey,” said the man.

“Did you enjoy Vanilla Ice?”

“I just got here, hey. I hate that guy. I’m here for The Kings.”

“Me too. If I had already had the nachos, I’d have poured the melted cheese in my ear holes.”

“Ha! I like you, hey.”

The two men talked their way through the line. The huge man proceeded to tell (Tom the waiter) all about his wife and how she hated Kings of Leon. He was working hard in construction, trying to earn enough money to bring her to the states. Just days before he would have had all the money ready, she sent him a text message to say that she was leaving him for his younger brother, Calrenzo.

Lorenzo decided to take all the money he had saved for her and open his own business. He wanted to open a café in DC, because his wife hated café’s and politics. Currently, he was taking some much needed vacation and following Kings of Leon as they toured around the country, as a giant fuck you to his ex-wife.

(Tom the waiter) really liked his new friend. Finally reaching the counter, Lorenzo ordered his food and before leaving, turned to (Tom the waiter) to hand him a business card.

“If you’re ever in DC, look me up, hey.”

“I will; it was nice to meet you.”

He glanced at the card briefly, placed it in his pocket and turned to order his nachos. There was a tray of them already on the counter along with a tall tube of beer.

“From your friend,” said the nacho lady.

Damn, I love that guy, he thought.

(Tom the waiter) made his way back to his seat. Kings of Leon would be starting soon. He looked to see if his mark ever showed. To his surprise, he did and unfortunately, it was his new friend.

“Whoa! What are the odds, hey?”

“Astronomical. Thanks for the nachos and the beer.”

“It was the least I could do for my new pal, hey. I’m Lorenzo by the way.”

“I’m–”

He was interrupted by a roaring crowd as the lights went down, signaling the start of the show. I can’t kill this guy now, he thought. He felt a connection with Lorenzo. But if he didn’t do it, The Company would just send someone else. He couldn’t let that happen. Lorenzo reminded him so much of one of his dad’s and much like Lorenzo, his dad also smelled of beer and bratwurst. Just like Lorenzo, his other dad, Reginald, just recently broke things off with his biological father over a text message. (Tom the waiter) couldn’t let anyone kill Lorenzo. He had to protect him, but to do that, he needed an excuse to be around him often.

“Hey Lorenzo,” he yelled over the music. “You doing any hiring at your restaurant?”

 

 

* * *

 

Katie sighed. She wished Rose were here. She picked up a ball gag and leather whip and gave it a crack, kapow, startling Tom who was starting to dose off.

“Sorry, I just always wanted to do that.”

“No worries; we need to gather up supplies and find the rest of the group. What’s left of them,” Tom said. He looked at Katie, who looked crestfallen, so he quickly added, “I’m sure Rose is fine.” He found a tool box, opened it up and took out a hand full of washers. “No good sex dungeon is without a tool box.” He scanned the shelf and his eye rested on a jar of vinegar. No doubt it was used for some weird sex thing. He removed a knife and started cutting small squares from a card board box.

“What are you doing?” Katie asked.

“I’m making batteries. We’ve been lucky so far that most places still have power, but that will soon be over, and that’s when you will really start to see panic. The bigger the battery, the more you can power, but they’re just temporary. Still, they have come in handy in my line of work.” He took a wrapper off a stick of gum and laid it on the ground with a washer and then dipped the cardboard in vinegar and put it on top. He repeated the process a bunch of times, until he had a large stack. Tom found some electrical tape in the tool box and wrapped it around the whole thing, so it wouldn’t topple over.

“What line of work? You mean waiting tables?”

Tom looked at Katie and shrugged. “What the hell, the world is ending anyway and Lorenzo’s dead, so there’s no point in secrecy any longer. I’m not really a waiter; I mean I did do that briefly, but it was just a cover. For the past six years, I’ve worked for a place, only known by the name, ‘The Company.’ No one knows who’s really in charge. Long story short, I’m basically a hit man for hire.”

Katie dropped the ball gag she was still holding. “Holy fuck! You’re like Jason Bourne. I’ve been waiting for you to die all this time. I mean…” she trailed off looking embarrassed.

“You’ve been waiting for me to die?”

“Well, we all have. I mean, you have no last name; you’re like a guy in a red jumper on Star Trek.”

Tom laughed. “Actually, I do have a last name and my first name isn’t Tom. It’s just that no one has bothered to ask me about it.”

“I’m sorry; we’ve been very rude and condescending to you.”

“It’s okay, I got used to it waiting tables. You know, people should treat waiters and waitresses with a little more respect. We sometimes have to serve real assholes.”

“So, how did you go from the A-Team to waiting tables?”

“Lorenzo was a mark and after spending some time with him, I realized I couldn’t do it any longer and left the business.” Tom said while finishing up another battery.

“That’s incredible and so is that battery trick. You’re just full of surprises. We may have to try some of these toys out.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh. Nothing. How do those batteries work exactly?”

Tom scanned the shelves and picked up a small, cheap calculator. He took the back off of it and pulled out some wires, which he placed on either side of his battery. The calculator came to life. “You know, in the years that I’ve been doing this, I find it’s the little things like this that keep you alive. It’s more than just big guns, you have to have survival skills.”

Katie picked up a backpack that was full of rubber dildos. She dumped them out and discreetly put one in the side pouch, because it could get lonely in the apocalypse.

“Here, put those batteries in here.”

Katie and Tom grabbed anything of use they could find and placed it in the backpack, which included some bottles of water and a box of crackers.

“We should prob—”

Tom held up a finger to silence her and whispered, “Do you hear that?”

There was a shuffling upstairs and some loud footsteps. Someone was definitely up there.

“Hello? Katie?” It was a welcoming and familiar voice; it was Rose.

“Rose! We’re down here!”

“Who is we?”

“What did you say your name was?”

“My name is Apollo. Apollo Greyskull.”

Aliens Are People Too

The Supreme Leader of the Inkaku stood in silence. Everyone in the command room turned to look at him for direction. He slowly sat down on his floating beanbag throne and looked up to the ceiling, as if the words were floating above him, and he just needed to pluck the right one out of the air as it flew by.

No one wanted to be the first to speak. Through the use of sophisticated sphere drone technology, they had all just watched their greatest warriors ripped to shreds, without even having the opportunity to showcase any of their sweet ninja moves. The special ninja force known to the Inkaku as the, “Red Azhols” were taken from their homes as infants, and trained in the ancient fighting style of Buscemi for hundreds of years. Buscemi was created by an Inkaki hermit named Boui g’Eorge on their home planet’s flatest mountain, thousands of Earth years ago. It was basically just a system of flailing overhead arm waves ending in a headbutt.

The Supreme Leader believed the Red Azhols were the solution to the vampires that now threatened their victory over humanity. He had grossly underestimated their speed and ferocity. To be fair, no Inkaku could have foreseen these events, but Chief Officer, Mardji Th’Bantha believed he could parlay this loss into a win for his plan to overthrow Supreme Leader, t’Evar Orbus.

Mardjii slipped out of the room and headed to La’burypraiv’s laboratory, to make all the necessary preparations. The sound of the doors closing together snapped t’Evar out of his daze. His Earth Campaign advisor, w’Alterwhite, was beside him. t’Evar let out a massive roar, and with one hand, picked his advisor up by the throat.

“w’Alterwhite,” which translated to, You assured me they would be easily defeated!

“Your greatness, these vampires were believed a myth; even by the earthlings. Our research led us to believe they only had the power to sparkle in sunlight and love endlessly.”

“Enough! Even the humans have it in them to defeat us! Literally! You mean to tell me after years of abductions and research, you failed to notice they emit methane, hydrogen sulfide and sulfur from their bottom mouths? The three deadliest poisons to our people?”

“Forgiveness, your wonderfulness. We outsourced our entire human research department. The little green men from the planet Mars spearheaded the entire project. They never released the chemical makeup of the bottom mouth gases.”

“You have jeopardized this entire war, w’Alterwhite!”

With a twist of his wrist, t’Evar snapped w’Alterwhite’s neck. His body went limp and t’Evar tossed him to the side of the room like a rag doll.

“Take him to La’burypraiv’s laboratory for species reassignment. Inform La’burypraiv that I want him modified right away. Let’s see how these humans and vampires fair against the might of a Stamp Zzod.

***

Mardji was already on his way to La’burypraiv’s laboratory, but first he really needed to use the bathroom. He’d been so busy that he had not had a chance to go. This was also his first free moment to wonder why t’Evar was not dead.

How is he not dead yet? How had the Utrivu not killed him? This could be a problem, he thought.

He looked at the selection of magazines on the magazine rack and finally decided on Space Boobs. It was a fairly raunchy magazine, not as classy as Intergalactic Muffs. Mardji went into the bathroom and sat down on one of the toilets. Inkaku toilets all resembled thrones, because they saw pooping as a sacred ritual and wanted each and every Inkaku, to feel like a king or queen when they had to do their business.

Mardji flipped right to the centerfold, which was a female from the planet Arrakis, they were known for their spices. He stared at her five boobs and noticed there was a smudge on one of them. Mardji was going to wipe off the smudge with his thumb, but before he could, he realized his mistake. The smudge was no smudge at all; it was the Utrivu. The hideous black insect, with its ten legs, eyes both in the front and back of its body and sharp pincers, leaped onto Mardji’s arm and pinched him.

 

He screamed and knocked the Utrivu off his arm. He tried to crush it with his foot, but the Urivu was too fast for him and scurried away. Mardji took a step to run after it, but he still had his pants down and fell face forward. He lay on the bathroom floor, with his pants down; he was still holding the magazine. The poison was already coursing through his veins. He tried to think about his life, frantically trying to remember a good memory, a time when he was happy, but he couldn’t think of one. All he could think about was the fact that this is how he was going to meet his end. He couldn’t help it; he had to laugh out loud.

This has got to be the most unusual death ever, he thought and indeed it would later go in the top five among Inkaku deaths. The number one most unusual death was an Inkaku named Blodpvint. He was trampled during a Yaratuplack parade. Yaratuplack were tiny, midget like creatures that lived on the planet Ilipco. That wasn’t the thing that killed him though, while he was lying on the ground, someone dropped part of a sandwich that managed to get in his mouth and make him choke. A Yaratuplack saw him choking, and tried to give him the Heimlich maneuver, but he was too small to wrap his tiny arms around him. He then decided to kick Blodpvint in the balls, thinking the pain might make him spit up the sandwich, which it did not. Blodpvint was now choking and holding his balls, when lightning struck him, finally putting him out of his misery.

Mardji clasped Space Boobs close to his chest and gasped his last breath; the Chief Officer had met his end.

The janitor walked in, an Inkaku named Fartron, who was pushing a cart, that had a bucket and all his cleaning supplies on it. He picked up a bottle of bleach-like solution and that’s when he noticed Mardji lying on the floor with his pants down. Fartron dropped the bottle and it landed on the floor, spilling the cleaner everywhere.

“Vragidlilu$$$!/” cxi+64 2#!*,” he said aloud, which roughly translated to, Kanye Christ!

Fartron tried to pull the magazine out of Mardji’s hands. Even after death, he still had a firm grip on it. He finally yanked it out of his hands and looked at the cover. Fartron looked at Mardji and then looked again at Space Boobs. He didn’t need to wonder any further how he died; it was very apparent.

***

An hour later, it was time for Mardji’s funeral. The Inkaku didn’t like to wait long after someone’s death to have a funeral; they already smelled bad enough when full of life, but mainly because they never spent any time developing DVR technology, and no one wanted to miss their shows. All the Inkaku on the mother ship were dressed in plaid. Unlike at Earth funerals, where everyone wore black, the Inkaku wore plaid to show that they were in mourning. The Supreme Ruler, t’Evar was giving the eulogy.

“Chief Officer, Mardji Th’Bantha is dead. He died bravely in battle.” He had to pause and wait for the laughter to die down. It didn’t take long for the real cause of death to circulate, because Fartron, the janitor, posted it on Reeter, which was a very similar social media site to Earth’s Twitter.

“He was four hundred and twenty five years old. He had no family or friends, but he was loved by everyone. He will be missed.” t’Evar looked solemn, but on the inside he was overjoyed.

That idiot thought I didn’t know about his plan to try and take me out, he thought. t’Evar was very much aware of his second in commands ambitions. He had his guards very carefully catch the Utrivu, and place it in the one place that he was sure Mardji would look. The bug did its job and no one was the wiser. No autopsy would be ordered, because cause of death was obvious.

t’Evar raised his hand, which was the sign that the customary Inkaku ritual could begin. The Inkaku lined up. single file, each holding a fruit in their hands. One by one, they stepped up and hurled them at the face of Mardji. The Inkaku believed this brought good fortune in the afterlife; they also thought it was a lot of fun. After the last Inkaku was finished, the Supreme Ruler ordered the coffin to be cast out the airlock, where it could drift peacefully for the rest of eternity, or possibly collide with an asteroid and get shattered to bits.

The coffin was put on a conveyor belt, where Mardji slowly moved down and out the airlock. It reminded t’Evar very much like the death of Spock from the earth movie Star Trek: the Wrath of Khan. He wanted to yell, Khaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, or in this case Mardjiiiiiiiiiiiiii, but he resisted the urge.

More like the Wrath of t’Evar mutha fucka, he thought.

Mardji’s dark brown coffin fired out slowly toward the stars, while everyone turned to leave and head back to their battle stations. Mardji’s coffin could be seen through the huge observation window, but no one stayed to watch. A shame really, because Mardji’s coffin was almost instantly struck by MTV’s speeding satellite, and the two objects quietly exploded into a billion tiny pieces of metal, sparks and flesh. The site was something to behold, but the scene was lost to everyone.

That very moment on Earth, in a tiny apartment in Manhattan, Carson Daily dropped his souffle; which he just pulled from the oven. His wife ran to him as he buckled over and dropped to his knees. She asked him what was wrong, to which he replied… I don’t know. I felt… a great disturbance, as if a millions of musicians suddenly cried out and were suddenly silenced.

It Looks Like I Picked the Wrong Week to Quit Drinking Blood

Eastwood did all he could to try and land the plane as safely as possible, but it crashed down into the Potomac River. The plain split in two and both pieces started plummeting to the bottom of the lake and along with it, Eastwood, Ted Striker, General Usrodd, Lunchbox, Eggs, Kitty, Yukon, the Hammer, Marietta and Dr. Fritz Rommel.

Yukon was the first to react. He took off his clothes and underneath as always, he was wearing his wet suit.

This is the second time this week that I’ve taken off my clothes and had to swim in the Potomac, he thought.

His first priority was his wife, Kitty, who was slumped over unconscious in the seat next to him. She had hit her head against the window on impact. Yukon looked around as water was flooding in rapidly in the half of the plane that they were in, he saw General Usrodd sitting in his seat lifeless, with blood oozing out of his mouth. A metal rod from the plane had pierced his chest. He didn’t have time to muse about the irony of Usrodd dying by a rod; he had to get his wife and get the hell out of there. Dr. Rommel managed to get out of his seat belt and was screaming. “I can’t swim; help me.” Yukon didn’t see anyone else; he assumed the others were in the other half of the plane.

Eastwood staggered out of the cockpit with a bloody head. “You get the doctor; I’ll take my wife,” Yukon said to him. He quickly unfastened Kitty’s seat belt and grabbed her around the waist, as he swum towards the surface and Eastwood did the same. The doctor was frantically waving his arms in a panic, making it very difficult for Eastwood to swim, so he pulled the rod out of the General and whacked the doctor on the head, knocking him unconscious.

Eastwood and Yukon broke the surface, each carrying their unconscious cargo. Yukon surveyed the land. “It looks like we are only about a mile from shore.”

Eastwood looked at Yukon. “Where did you get the wet suit?”

“I always wear one underneath my clothes.”

“Smart, I should start doing that. You never know when you’re going to find yourself in the Potomac.”

“I hear you,” Yukon said.

The two began to swim, but it was slow going, trying to swim and carry Kitty and the doctor.

“Do you think the others will be okay?” Yukon asked.

Before Eastwood could respond, they heard a hissing noise and a life raft shot into the sky and landed back on the surface of the water. Lunchbox popped his head out, as well as Eggs and Marietta who climbed into the raft.

“Hey there, mind if we join you?” Eastwood asked with a grin.

Lunchbox only nodded; he looked grave. “The Hammer and Ted didn’t make it.”

The others pulled Kitty, Eastwood and Dr. Rommel into the raft. There wasn’t any more room in the raft for Yukon, who didn’t mind, because he preferred to swim.

“I remembered there was a life raft in one of the compartments on Air Force Two. Where’s the General?” Lunchbox asked.

“He’s dead; he was impaled by a piece of metal from the plane,” Eastwood said.

“Cecilia’s head was smashed and Ted’s was as well. We found him in the bathroom on the toilet. He must have had to go really bad,” Lunchbox said.

“Ted Striker died on the toilet?”

“Yes and he had a roll of toilet paper still in his hand. I hope the President and First Husband are okay.”

“The last I saw of them before we crash landed, it looked as though they were fighting the spaceship,” Eastwood said.

Lunchbox shook his head sadly. “They probably didn’t make it; that spaceship was damn near indestructible.”

***

Mick and Evan landed in front of the White House. Other than a cut on Mick’s forehead, the two were in good shape.

“On behalf of Earth…fuck you!” Evan said.

“Did you see that alien’s face when I said that and yanked him out of the ship?”

The couple laughed and then hugged one another. To say they had been through an ordeal was an understatement.

“Did you see what happened to the plane?” Evan asked.

Mick shook his head. “I was too busy with the spaceship. Maybe we should go back and look for them.”

“No, Lunchbox was adamant about me returning safely to the White House and besides, between Eastwood and Lunchbox, I don’t doubt they came through it safely.”

“You’re right,” Mick said. “But can we stop by the theater room first and get Guy to whip us up some wings? I’m as hungry as Stanley Johnson looks.”

The two drew their guns and stepped inside the White House. It was eerily quiet; on an average day, you could hardly hear yourself think from all the hustle and bustle. They worked their way past broken glass and a few dead aliens. Mick glanced up at the portrait of former President Trump. Someone had drawn a penis on his forehead.

“Melvin,” they both yelled at once.

Melvin heard his name and peeked out of the Theater room in the hallway. He smiled and was eating some cherries.

“What’s up bitches,” he said.

“Damn it’s good to see you,” Evan said.

“Where is everyone?” Mick inquired.

“We all fought our way to the tarmac to wait for your arrival. You were taking too long and I slipped away to come back here.”

“Cherries?” Mick asked with no need for a response.

“Yup,” Melvin replied with his mouth full.

Evan asked for an update and who was in his party. When Mick noticed Guy’s name wasn’t mentioned, he pressed Melvin.

“Melvin… Where’s Guy?”

“He didn’t make it.”

“Noooo!” Cried Evan and Mick simultaneously.

“Those Inkaku bastards are going to pay,” said The President as he pulled Mick’s sobbing head into his chest.

“There’s more… Honey knows who I am.”

“How did she figure it out?”

“I let slip that I’ve been a vampire all my life. That and…” Melvin raised the jar of cherries.

“Damn, she’s good,” Mick said. “Told you she would be a sharp V.P.”

Evan smilled at Mick. He asked Melvin who else knew his true identity.

“Just her… So far.”

“Let’s keep it that way. It’s a lot to take in the existence of vampires, but to discover that the original vampire still exists AND just so happens to be Blacula… That may be a bit much for this week.”

“Agreed.”

“Also, your manager died.”

“That’s okay. I mean it’s not okay that he’s dead, but I was going to fire him the day the apocalypse started. He was only getting me shit roles and taking 30% on everything I made.”

“Well since we’re not getting any damn wings, let’s go get the others,” the President said.

“As the three men made their way to the ground floor, Blacula paused.

“Wait… You guys hear that?”

No sooner as the question left his cherry stained lips, nearly all the windows in the area shattered inward, as Inkaku passed through them. A small army of alien assholes on the hunt for the President. This force was different than any they’ve faced before. In place of their gold and purple armor, were solid black suits with strategically placed armored plates of deep red. The plates looked like they were protecting the major organs, while the rest of the suit sacrificed protection for speed, and they were definitely faster.

In a flash, these new attackers surrounded Evan, Mick and Melvin. They moved quickly and efficiently, like ninjas. Alien ninjas.

Melvin gently placed his jar of cherries on the floor. “Things just got really bad… For these guys.”

Mick was first to act. He sprang forth with outreached arms and had the alien’s head removed, before it knew what hit him. As Mick stood there, holding the alien head up so the others could preview the coming attractions, it’s body sank to the floor next to him. The other aliens looked on in horror, but none of them were as horrified as the bodyless alien, who was still alive. Still being held up by Mick’s hand, the alien’s eyes looked downward at it’s own body, then lowered it’s jaw in a total, “OH SHIT” moment.

“Catch bitch,” Mick said, as he hurled the head at the next closest alien. The head struck with such force, that it knocked the second alien’s head clean off, but in a weird bit of happenstance, came to rest on that alien’s neck. It reminded Mick of the scene in Star Wars where Threepio’s head was on a Battle Droid. He was glad Evan and Melvin were there, because no one would believe it otherwise.

Melvin and Evan both smiled and joined in the fun; ripping off heads, punching through chests, and grabbing the occasional drink from the fountains of blood throughout the room.

The three men stood around the room surveying the carnage.

“That was refreshing,” Melvin said. “I haven’t had blood like that in a century. Nuttier than human blood.”

This was the first blood Evan and Mick had ever had other than from an animal.

“Kanye Christ, That was delicious,” Mick said.

After tasting human blood, vampires had a habit of getting addicted to it. There was a good chance Evan and Mick could start viewing humans as sirloin, but this was alien blood, so maybe they would be okay. Melvin could only hope that would be the case. He knew all too well, the only way to fight back the cravings for human blood once you got the taste for it, was to develop another addiction…

Melvin picked his jar up. “We’re gonna need more cherries…”

 

The Ballad of Gay Vampire Birds

Eastwood is at the helm of Air Force Two, flying at an altitude of 37,000 feet just above the clouds. It is a beautiful day; the sky is clear and if it weren’t for the world coming to an end, he would be able to sit back and enjoy it all. Air Force Two was not quite as luxurious as Air Force One, but it had everything you needed for a comfortable flight.

President Bacon, Mick, Eggs, Ted Striker, Cecilia, General Usrodd, Stanley, Kitty, Yukon, Marietta and Dr. Fritz Rommel were all buckled in and relaxing. They were watching Sex and the City and Death III, which was not even out at theaters yet. The director had given Mick an early copy. It was right at the climax of the movie, where Mick, whose character’s name is Brad Shaw is confronting his boss.

It was you; you killed my partner. You set me up.

That’s right; I killed your partner and now I’m going to kill you.

Kneel before Zod, bitch! *fires rocket launcher*

Everyone on the plane clapped, including the President, who had already heard the line a thousand times, because he always helped him rehearse his lines. It had been one thing after another since this all began, and they were happy for a moment of peace. The rest of the group with the exception of his husband, had felt a little awkward around the President since the vampire bombshell. The President noticed that every time he tried to make eye contact with someone, they quickly looked away.

They need time to get used to this, after all it’s not every day you find out the President of the United States is a vampire. Too bad former President Trump wasn’t a vampire; he’d be in his fourth term of office right now. He had the law changed on term limits. I wonder how he would have handled this situation. He probably would have built a wall around the United States using cheap immigrant labor, he thought.

They heard a thump and the plane bounced a little bit; everyone just thought it was turbulence, until there was another louder and bigger thump that made the plane really shake. The President unbuckled his seat belt and went to the rear of the plane, even though the seat belt sign was on.

He looked out the window past the, “How’s my flying” bumper sticker with a 1-800 number, and saw an alien spaceship hot on their tail.

“It’s an alien spaceship and they are firing on us.”

“What do we do? This is a commercial plane, not a fighter jet. We have no way to fire back at them,” Ted Striker said.

“Eastwood will have to out run them,” said the President. Then he shouted toward the cockpit, “Eastwood, do a barrel roll!”

Eastwood’s voice came on over the intercom. Attention passengers, please return to your seats and buckle up. The shit’s about to get real in this mutha fucka. As always, thank you for flying Air Force Two.

“Mr. President, we need to get you out of here,” Director of Homeland Security said.

“What are you talking about Lunch Box?”

Cecilia, “the Hammer” Hammerstein understood the gravity of what Stanley was saying. “He’s right Mr. President; we do have to get you out of here. Your safety is always the number one priority.”

“Would someone tell me what the hell you are talking about?”

“There is one parachute on this plane, which would obviously be for the Vice President in normal circumstances, but you need to put it on and jump out of this plane,” The Hammer said.

“What? Who the fuck do I look like? D.B. Cooper. I don’t need the parachute, remember? I am a vampire; I can fly and so can Mick. We’re not abandoning the rest of you though.”

“It won’t be safe for you to remain on this plane. We have no weapons and it’s doubtful Eastwood will be able to out run the spaceship; the odds are greater for your survival if you guys flew out,” Lunchbox said.

“You both need to go quickly. I’m not sure how much longer Eastwood will be able to out maneuver them,” Cecilia said. “Especially with all this added weight.”

“Hey!” cried out Stanley when Cecilia nodded his way.

“We’re not leaving the rest of you on this plane to die.”

His Chief of Staff weighed in. “Mr. President; I know this is hard, but remember your oath of office. You have a duty to the American people first and foremost and I’m afraid that supersedes everything, even your friends.”

Mick squeezed his husband’s hand. “We have to do it.”

“I can’t.”

“We have to go; especially you, you have to lead what’s left of humanity. You’re still their Commander and Chief and they need you to fight.”

The President had tears in his eyes and brushed them away with his hand. It was the first time any of them had seen him cry. He looked at Lunchbox and nodded. Stanley unbuckled his extension seat belt and headed towards the front of the plane. He opened the cockpit door, where Eastwood was doing everything he could just to hang on. Stanley heard him curse.

“Shit up a wall!”

“The President is going to jump out of the plane.”

Eastwood only nodded. It didn’t need to be explained to him; he already knew what the outcome would be. They were in dire circumstances. The plane shook again.

“Another direct hit and we are done for. I’ve already lost engine one. You better hurry and get the President out of here,” Eastwood said as he descended.

“Everyone to the front of the plane and make sure you are buckled up. I’m going to open the door,” the President said.

Everyone moved up to the front, except for Lunchbox, who stayed near the President and First Husband, so he could quickly close the door. The President didn’t turn around to look at his friends and colleagues, because if he did; he wouldn’t be able to go through with it. He held his husbands hand and with the other, his Beretta. The two of them jumped out together and at first, it looked like the two of them would plummet to the ground, but they began soaring through the air, like two gay vampire birds. Stanley Johnson quickly closed the door just in the nick of time, because there was another thump and he could see one of the engines was on fire.

Eastwood got on the intercom. Everyone get into crash position; we are going down.

The First Husband aimed his Beretta and fired at the ship, but the bullets didn’t even penetrate. The alien craft was soft like poo, but their shielding stopped any projectiles and even missiles evaporated before connecting. To everyone’s knowledge, nobody had successfully taken an Inkaku ship down.

Evan watched in horror as Air Force Two was steadily falling out of the sky. They may survive a crash landing, but it was still getting pounded by the Inkaku ship, like it was Apollo Creed in Rocky IV.

Without a word, Mick leaned into a dive after the ship and Evan followed suit. Evan watched as Mick reached behind his back to produce a huge, Crocodile Dundee sized knife that he had tucked away in his belt. Mick caught up to the craft and reached above his head with both hands grasping the knife, then plunged it deep into the ship as hard as he could. With a quick tug on the knife, he slit the ship’s fuselage, creating a gash in the cockpit and exposing the pilot.

“On behalf of Earth… Fuck you!”

And with that, Mick grabbed the alien by the back of it’s flight suit and yanked it out of the ship. Both the alien and its vehicle fell towards the ground, exploding upon impact.

Evan was beginning to slow down, not because it was over or because he was catching up to Mick, but because Mick’s actions just made him less aerodynamic.

 

* * *

As the sun rose over the mountain, Inkaku ace fighter pilot Suka Sis’ki is awoken by a beam of sunlight, pouring in through the bay window of his suite on the Camdar Prime, which is the lead Inkaku warship. He began peeling off the numerous females of various species in his harem that he had collected over the past 180 years. Every warrior can collect a”trophy wife” from each planet they conquer. There was no limit to how many wives an Inkaku could take, but never more than one of a particular species because eww.

Today was Suka’s birthday. It had already started with a bang with making love to his new Earth bride.

“¥°∆ &4ê $¶€¢|∆[, Bessie.” He said to her softly. In English, it roughly translated to, You are special, Bessie.

Suka decided to call her by the name etched into the giant bell on her necklace, since he could not yet understand her language. After twenty minutes of deep love making, Suka adorned the trappings of a fighter pilot of his caliber and headed off to continue the fight.

As he walked down the slimy hallway on his way to the command room to receive his orders, his friends and colleagues paused to wish him “#∆¶¶¥ wTf ß!4πd∆¥.” Happy Birthday.

He stopped by the j’Lava shop for a Gargantuan Nonfat Triple Shot Caacaa Alppachino with extra Whipped Salivaberry Cream and to check to see if his Powerball lottery numbers hit.

1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 and 6 was the powerball.

“¥°^£™$!” He exclaimed. As usual, he picked 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 and 7 for the Powerball and won a free Alppachino. Best. Day. Ever.

The command center of the ship was all decked out in the best golden slime available. Only the best for the crown jewel of the fleet. The commander, j’Ustin Beebr, was adorned in a similar fashion with the shiniest gold and white armor imaginable. Suka Sis’ki modeled his flight suit after Commander Beebr. It was a beautiful array of blue and black. Suka always looked up to the Commander. He was his idol and his best friend, as well as his older brother and father.

Upon entering the command center, everyone revealed their hind quarters to Suka in the customary fashion when an officer entered the room. He returned the courtesy and upon turning, was genuinely surprised to see Commander Beebr rolling out a cart of red birthday pudding, which was his favorite. Things could not have been better for Suka that day.

Suddenly, a siren sounded out and lights flashed throughout the room. The Camdar Prime was floating the entire night, after the news was relayed via psychic radio, that one of their zombified humans had successfully misted the leader of the Americans. Everyone aboard was waiting for the Supreme Leader’s next order. They weren’t expecting chaos this early in the morning.

The Commander called out for the situation to be projected to the main screen. An operator ran to the front of the room and pulled down the white canvas screen. Another operator in the rear of the room, flipped the switch on the projector. Light spilled onto the main screen in stunning 480p clarity. Suka stepped forward when he saw the aircraft on the screen. He knew the markings; it was the vehicle of the leader of the Americans.

Suka was quick to volunteer for the task of taking it down. The leader of the Americas was thought to be taken care of, but no psychic link with his zombie was established so they didn’t want to take chances. Failure was not an option; the price was too steep. If an Inkaku failed at a task, his head was removed and placed in the cafeteria for others to have sex with while they ate. It would remain there until the head eventually died of boredom a few weeks later.

Being the fleet’s top fighter pilot, Commander Beebr didn’t hesitate giving the order. Suka was to down the enemy craft and return to eat his red birthday pudding. The First Mate would sit in it to keep it warm for him, as per tradition.

Suka Sis’ki wasted no time; he ran to the flight deck and slid across the hood. The cockpit opened to receive him, and he sank in as the cockpit sealed around him. Suka grabbed the control stick, and the console lit up like it was on fire. He flipped the switch to fire the engine and a puff of smoke blew out the back rocket. He flipped the switch again, but this time to the off position and removed the power module. Suka raised the module to his lips and blew the dust out. He returned the module and tried again. The ship raised up and in a flash, flew out the bay door.

Once clear from the command ship, Suka input the code for the shielding.

Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, Start.

The shield enveloped the ship like a gazelle’s womb. He pressed the stick forward as far as it would go and zoomed after the enemy vessel.

In no time, he was in range and fired his glob cannons at the ship, hitting it with both shots. He began winding the crank to charge his next shots. Now that his presence was known, his target would be more challenging. One shot missed horribly, but the second connected. As he began to wind up his next rounds, he noticed two bodies fall from the ship. He must have breached it’s hull.

He lined up his next shot, but as he pulled the trigger, something flashed on his shielding making him miss both shots. Projectiles were disintegrating on his right side. He knew they couldn’t penetrate, but he was not expecting any form of attack and it threw him off momentarily. He looked to see what was firing upon his ship.

A human? How could this be? Humans can’t fly, he thought.

Suka continued to charge up his next shots. Flying humans, though weird as shit, were no real threat to him. What could they possibly do? Especially to him and especially today of all days.

Two more shots found their target on the already wounded plane as it was descending. As Ace Inkaku Fighter Pilot Suka Sis’ki charged the cannons, on what was to be his death blow, he let his mind envision that warm, succulent red birthday pudding. Life was grand.

Before he could squeeze the trigger and release the glob payload, a long, shiny metal pierced his cockpit and a rush of air poured in over him. He leaned to the side just in time, as it ripped past his fuggly head, and a panorama of sky was presented above him. To his surprise, a human was looking down at him nonchalantly.

“On behalf of Earth… Fuck you,” yelled the human and Suka felt the back of his flight jacket tighten, as his enemy grabbed it and yanked him from his seat.

As he accelerated to the planet’s floor, he watched his ship sink into the forest and explode. With his final breath he yelled out, “[{√ ¶^@@’ñ℅!” My pudding!

 

The Enema of My Enemy is My Friend

On the mother ship hovering miles above the earth is Supreme Ruler t’Evar Orbus. He has been overseeing the invasion from his jewel encrusted beanbag chair, which hovers in the center of the command room. He is twice the size of a normal Inkaku due to their crowning ritual performed when the new leader takes over. On his deathbed, the dying Supreme Ruler removes a tiny tube from his bellybutton that produces a type of Royal Jelly. He throws this creamy goo into a crowd and all those Inkaku fortunate enough to get slimed, have a chance at becoming the new Supreme Ruler. It looks a lot like the Kids’ Choice Awards. One by one, the chosen all take turns to see who gets covered with the most jelly. The champion will double in size overnight, and must devour the jelly-filled losers. It is a great honor among Inkaku to be eaten for their jelly. t’Evar Orbus has only been the Supreme Ruler of his people for four hundred years. Some in his inner circle, like his second in command, Mardji Th’Bantha, believed he lacked the experience to rule their people.

“¢^°÷{{{^¥¥°={°€,” said Mardjii in their ancient language of Grawlix. The English translation is roughly “We should have done more research, my Lord. These earthlings are tougher sons of bitches than we thought. They are not so easily eradicated.”

To which t’Evar replied, “%@*¥°∆~℅ !;!*>°^° ][√÷π\#@69. No shit.

t’Evar believed the humans would be too busy buried in their mobile devices to notice they were being decimated. This was not the case. They greatly underestimated their chances and now the humans figured out a way to transform their people back. The tide was starting to turn in the human’s favor. Mardjii saw this as a great opportunity to contest t’Evar’s rule. He reviewed their bylaws and found that a ruler could be removed, if it was determined that he or she was mentally unstable or incompetent, and thereby unable to make decisions and defend their kingdom. In such a case, rather than do the normal jelly ritual, the second in command automatically takes their place. Mardjii reviewed their historical records and had to go back several millennia, but he did find one instance where this had occurred. It seems that the Supreme Ruler, Tyysive was determined to be unfit for duties, because he suffered from delusions of grandeur. Unfortunately, for Mardjii, t’Evar was of sound mind and despite his age was as sharp as a 200 year old. What if something happened to him to change that? This is where Mardjii’s plan came into play. There is an insect called a Utrivu that administers a poison when bitten, the venom is not fatal, but it does slowly effects the brain and eventually makes them go mad. The problem is that Utrivu are extremely rare and can only be found in what the humans called, the Whirlpool Galaxy, because of its spiral shape. The Inkaku called it, Yofu%!# Grrru* which meant, “the shitty galaxy” because the weather was too cold, the species there were boring and there was nothing to do there. It would be extremely difficult to get a Utrivu, but Mardjii knew someone who could get one. La’burypraiv was a doctor and they called him, Murfa)^! “the mad scientist,” because he was always doing these weird experiments, in fact; he had planned to do experiments on the humans they captured, but they escaped before he had a chance. The doctor was an ally and is also one who believes the Supreme Ruler needed to go. t’Evar had threatened to shut down La’burypraiv’s experiments and revoke his medical license. Mardjii told him if he helped him depose the Supreme leader, he could continue to carry out his experiments as much as he wanted.

Mardjii walked down the hall to his laboratory. La’burypraiv’s laboratory is filled with peculiar specimens and instruments and his shelves are lined with body parts in jars of formaldehyde. The doctor is busy poking a Nargraw in the eye. Nargraws are large animals that have powerful jaws and hind legs. They can tear anything apart in a matter of minutes.

“T^^^^^) X+Y=Z78.” What are you doing? Mardjii asked.

“?P*^^^ #$9BBBBrrrrrr BV@!`~ I0+” Trying to find out why the Nargraw are so aggressive.

“BVC70 nnnF#! Ns !$$+- your mama %9= x~.” Maybe, it’s because you’re poking it in the eye.

“Y=%%cxW *+ +] l pr^# dQ> <’ lly.” That has nothing to do with it.

“Vuuut}\ Kr “MMMMMMMd#@ !%( BB vvvy?” Were you able to get what I asked?

The doctor refrained from poking the Nargraw in the eye, and its mighty jaws tried to snap at him as he reached up on his shelf and handed him a small jar. Mardjii looked at the insect. It was completely black, except for a tiny circle of red on its back, with ten legs, tiny pincers and eyes both in the front and rear of its body. It was hard to believe that such a tiny thing could administer such a powerful amount of poison.

“jjY* _+ #^vvvRN @bootyalien1 prt# IvRE. BBY&ppp+| 666.” You must be very careful with it and make sure you don’t get bitten yourself.

Mardjii nodded and left the doctor to his work. He would have to release the insect in t’Evar’s room while he slept. The only problem there is that there are always guards posted outside his room. Mardjii was already working on this problem. The guards rotated posts every week, and Mardjii knew the loyalties of two of the guards scheduled to relive the others tomorrow. He promised them both positions in his cabinet to assure their loyalty. For now though, he had to keep the Utrivu hidden and bide his time.

 

* * *

Back in the theater room at the White House, everyone was busy interviewing Melvin Morgan, who just recently became the most interesting person in the room. Full of nervous excitement, the gang continued hurling their inquires at him; each answer producing more questions. Melvin could smell the fear in the room and did his best to calm their nerves.

“You know I’m not gonna hurt you guys, right? I’m still the same ole Melvin as before.”

“Forgive us,” Anna said. “Its gonna take a bite of getting used to. SHIT! I mean- a bit of getting used to. Sorry.”

“It’s okay; it’s worth it just to finally be out in the open. You guys think there are any cherries in the kitchen?”

“How long have you been a vampire anyway?” Langhorne asked.

“All my life.”

“So you’ve been living a secret life for what, forty years or so?”

“Something like that.”

“Okay, everyone, we need to wrap this up. I just got a page from the General. The President is on his way back to Washington. We need to rendezvous with them when they land,” Honey said.

“You still have a pager?” Katie asked in disbelief.

“So you’re the one from the legends?” Tad said jokingly before returning his attention back to Rose.

“You heard the lady,” Larry said. “Let’s prepare to move. Hit the kitchen if you need a snack, and for Kanye’s sake, go to the can before we head out.”

As everyone started moving about, Honey grabbed Melvin by the arm before he could pass. She spoke softly to keep the conversation between the two of them. “All your life?”

Melvin just looked into her eyes.

“Forty years my fine ass. You’re him, aren’t you? You’re the one The President told me stories about.”

“Those are just stories. Now, if you’ll excuse me, those cherries aren’t going to eat themselves.”

“Don’t play coy with me; the President was very specific. Right down to the cherry addiction.”

“Cherries are universal. Everybody likes cherries; they are delightful.”

“I’m not buying it; I think you’re him. Why the games? They’re already afrai-”

Geoff interrupts before Honey can finish. “You guys coming or what?”

Yeah bruh,” Melvin said, then turns to look at Honey. “We’re done here.”

Honey motions to Melvin, “After you…”

As he passes, she continues in a hushed tone, “…Blacula.”

Meanwhile… In The Bat Cave Bathroom….

The status of the room changed from quiet, to what can only be described as deafening silence. Eyes were wide and jaws were dropped, save for The President’s husband and his Chief of Staff, Hank “Eggs” Benedict.

Kitty was in disbelief; she was not expecting this and many thoughts ran through her mind. Has President Bacon gone insane? Who will hire me after this? Aliens are hard enough to believe but… Vampires? Better yet, aliens, farting zombies, and vampires? Am I dreaming?

She turned to look at Eggs. He was already looking at her and simply nodded as if to say, “It’s true, so get your shit together.”

Marietta and Fritz were rubbing the backs of their necks, feeling the puncture wounds they hadn’t noticed until now, like a cut that doesn’t hurt until you look at it.

“Kitty?” Evan said to pull her back into play.

“Umm, yes, ah… Right. Mr President. So you’re…”

“A vampire.”

“Yeah- I mean, yes. Well…”

“You’re safe Kitty; I’m on your side. My kind haven’t killed a human in hundreds of years. We have… Evolved.”

“Well… So… How do we know you are… You know…”

Evan cocked his head slightly. He gave the most subtle of smiles and then reminded Kitty to remain calm. Slowly his lips parted and he ever so carefully opened wide, revealing his canine teeth, which were already lengthening into fangs. Fritz fainted.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, of fuck!” Kitty let slip, forgetting they were still broadcasting.

“Mrs. Catan, you’re okay. I know this is a bit much to ask, but there are people out there listening to this and they have questions; as I’m sure you do too.”

“Yes sir, I apologize. Please don’t eat me.”

“Kitty, we don’t eat people, at least not anymore. I made one exception when I bit Dick Cheney,” Evan said.

Everyone nodded their heads, because that explained a lot about him.

Kitty tried to calm herself. She gathered enough courage to look at Evan again. His fangs were hidden and that helped assuage some of her fear.

“Are we good?” Evan asked with a smile.

“Kittens and dildos, Mr President. Kittens and dildos.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Mr President, I guess my first question is, how can you and the vampires stop the aliens?”

“Well Kitty, as I mentioned earlier, I was attacked just moments ago. As a vampire, we have increased strength and agility. We can overpower the zombies and, as I just found out during my attack, restore them once bitten. Dr Rommel, who has been researching the aliens we’ve defeated, believes they are very similar to humans. He informed me that they have blood rich in iron and oxygen. If this is the case, we can drain them.”

“Okay, that sounds a little frightening.”

“We don’t do this to humans anymore. We can survive without human blood. We just need blood, any blood rich in oxygen. You see Kitty, we are undead; just like all the stories you’ve heard. So, we don’t breathe, but we still need oxygen. We process it from blood.”

“But, you still eat and drink; I’ve seen you do it. Isn’t that supposed to make you sick?”

“No,” Evan chuckled. “We still need water and vitamins too. Vitamins we get from food just like you; we were human once, after all. We need the exact same things. Our bodies are made up of all the same ingredients as before; we just don’t breathe. That’s why we need blood.”

“Alright, now I have a ton of new questions. If you don’t kill, how do you create more vampires?”

“If you are bitten by an animal a vampire drank from, you become a vampire after you die, unless you were burned or decapitated. The main Nosferatu carrier is dogs. Their hair hides our bites. Almost all dogs have it. We avoid cows or deer or anything a person may consume. That’s why dogs are the animals of choice. Japan is 99.9% Nosferatu by-the-way.”

“That explains a lot about Japan,” Kitty said.

“When we restore the zombies, they won’t be vampires at least not right away; not until they die.”

“That’s fascinating, but what about the sun?!”

“Oh, we love the sun. Most of the things you’ve heard about us, have been made up to throw humans off the trail. For instance, we do have a reflection; we’re not ghosts. But if you see my reflection, see me out during the day, or even watch me touch water without multiplying, then you’re less likely to suspect I’m a vampire.”

“Um, I think that last one is something else.”

Evan smiles at Kitty. She realizes he’s just trying to put her at ease.

“So, over the years you’ve managed to mold untruths to your advantage. That’s smart. Wait! Can you fly?” Kitty asked.

“Of course we can; you can fly too. Everything can fly after it dies. Dead humans just lack the motivation.”

“Wow, Mr. President, I’m overwhelmed. What about things like garlic, crosses and Holy water?”

“It’s all a fabrication to throw people off the trail.”

“So stakes to the heart won’t stop you?”

“Don’t be stupid; anything rammed through your heart will kill you.”

“Oh, right. Well Mr. President, I think this covers most of the initial questions. OH MY GOD THE ALIENS! I forgot all about them.”

“I guess that means the interview went well.”

“I guess so, Mr. President. So what shall we do now?”

“It’s time we take our planet back. I ask that all my vampire siblings come out of hiding, and I ask everyone else to not panic and start staking them. You have nothing to fear from us.”

Kitty thanked Evan and signed off. Stanley flipped a few switches to end the broadcast. Mick joined Evan as the group gathered around them; still stunned and full of questions.

“You knew?” Kitty asked of Eggs.

“Yes,” he responded plainly.

“I’m sure you all have questions. Mick and I will explain everything on the way to Air Force Two. It’s time we head back to Washington,” Evan said.

Mick smiled at his lover; everyone was finally meeting the real Evan Bacon. The man he met and fell in love with the night he turned…

***

On the edge of an unknown river, in some unknown town, Mick Cage is just waking up. Cold, naked, and face down in the muddy bank.

“Wha… What happened? Where the fuck am I? How did I get here?”

In the distance, behind the trees, he hears a voice respond, “All good questions; perhaps I can help.”

A figure steps out slowly, into the bright light of the full moon. A man… dressed in a tuxedo.

“You’re a little overdressed for a walk in the woods,” Mick slurred.

“And you’re a little under dressed for it,” the man replied. “I’m Evan and you are?”

“Confused. Why are you in a tux? Where am I? Are you here to kill me?”

“I’ve just come from a formal dinner. You are on the bank of the Dan River in Danville, Virginia, and no, you’ve already died once tonight. That’s more than enough, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Wait, what?!”

“Danville. It’s in southern Virginia.”

“No. The death part.”

“Ah, yes. You died. You died and were… Reborn.”

“So you’re either crazy or an angel.”

“I am neither; I am but a messenger. A guide if you will. I am somewhat responsible for your current… situation, and I’ve come to help.”

“I must be dreaming. That’s it; this is a dream.” Mick pushed his hands into the mud and let it seep through his fingers. “A very… elaborate dream.”

“You’re not dreaming. Now, pull your dick out of the mud and let’s go get you some clothes.”

Mick stands up and gets balanced. “I’m Mick, but how did you know I was here if you don’t even know who I am?”

The two begin to walk through the woods. The brightness of the moon dampened by the trees.

“Mick, let’s start from the beginning. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was in my dressing room. I’m an… actor. We just wrapped my latest movie. I was with a coworker and we were partying a little.”

“Partying?” Evan asked, hoping for some embellishment.

“You know the usual, drugs, sex, alcohol and more drugs.”

“I see, then what?”

“I just did a bump of coke… and then… and… Oh god, did I overdose?”

“Probably,” Evan said abruptly. “My guess is your coworker panicked and dumped you in the river. That would explain everything.”

“THAT BITCH!” Mick screamed into the night sky.

“Don’t plan your revenge on her just yet.”

“Him.”

“Excuse me?” Did you say him?”

“Yes, him; I’m bisexual. I’m…in porn, mostly gay porn. I’m a big gay actor in big gay pornos. There, it’s out there. Happy?”

Evan smiled a little. “I don’t care if you’re gay or straight, or that you’re in porn. I’m just surprised is all.”

“It’s okay; I know others see me as a freak.”

“They won’t see you that way anymore,” Evan said, as he places his hand on Mick’s shoulder, unaffected by his nakedness or awkwardness.

Mick looked down at his cold, shriveled, muddy penis. “You think?”

Evan assured Mick. “From now on, others will adore you. They won’t care that you’re in porn and they won’t care that you’re gay. It’s like they sense you’ve died and they feel sorry for you. You’ve just begun a new life, Mick. It will be scary at first; you won’t believe me right away. You are about to embark on an incredible journey my friend, and I’m here to help.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Mick asked as he turns and stares into Evan’s eyes.

“That’s not the question you’re searching for.” Evan replied.

“Why did you wave your hand when you said that? What are you some kind of god damn Jedi?”

“Sorry, it was a poor joke. I was just trying to get you to relax a little.”

A pause lingers in the air as Mick concentrates on Evan’s face. His head tilts slightly, like a confused dog.

“What the fuck are you?”

“I am the same as you. I am… a vampire.”

Mick’s face remains unchanged. “No shit?”

“No shit.”

“I am crazy. I am tripping balls, big, fuzzy balls.”

Instantly, Evan opened his mouth wide to reveal his razor sharp fangs and Mick screamed like a B-Movie horror flick actress from the early 80’s. Mick fell backwards to the ground; his muddy dick tucking in like a frightened turtle.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“Easy, I’m not going to hurt you; you are safe now.”

“I’m tripping puffy pink puppy balls right now! You’re a vampire?! How is this possib- I’M A VAMPIRE?!”

“Try and calm down. You’re going to fly off and hurt yourself.”

“I can fly?”

“Yes, you can fly. I’ll explain everything in due time.”

“But how did I become– this? I wasn’t bitten by a vampire. I don’t think I was bitten by one at least. I don’t know, I have done a lot of drugs.”

“Were you ever bitten by a dog? Most of the time, it’s a dog.”

“What the fuck, are you fucking with me right now?”

“Okay, listen. Vampires don’t feed on humans anymore and we haven’t for awhile now. We still need blood though. You’ll come to find out that you need all the normal things you needed as a human, food, water, oxygen… You still need all these things to survive. You don’t breathe now; your lungs fill with air, yes, but it’s out of habit more than anything, like muscle memory. The way you get oxygen now, is through blood. Any blood will do, so we mostly feed on dogs. That’s why they sleep so fucking much; they’re drained. We never kill them though, because we don’t need that much. Cats on the other hand… They’re basically a onetime deal, like a jello shot. If you were ever bitten by a dog, you probably carry the vampire virus.”

“I was bitten by a dog years ago,” Mick said.

Evan placed his hand on Mick’s shoulder and guided him back into walking mode. “You won’t turn into a vampire until you die, unless; you are burned or decapitated or something really final, like old age or getting shot in the head.”

“Will I live forever?”

“No, you have a normal lifespan. Sorry, but you can’t get STDs or cancer; that’s a pretty sweet bonus.”

“Yeah, especially the STD part. You know, with my line of work. I guess now I will explode in sunlight? So that fucking sucks.”

“No, that and a few other things you’ve heard were made up to throw humans off our scent. Garlic, holy water, crosses, sunlight… all bullshit.”

“I have a lot to learn. Thank you, Evan.”

“No need to thank me. Somehow, I’m the reason you turned and that’s how I knew where and when to find you. You were probably bitten by a dog I fed from, that psychic connection is one of the stereotypes that is true.”

Mick turned again to stare into Evan’s eyes. “Is that why I find you so attractive?”

“No, that’s because I’m hot and you’re gay. Now let’s get you inside before your dick freezes off. Regeneration is unfortunately one of those stereotypes that doesn’t hold water.”

***

I can’t believe it’s her; the woman of my dreams. I’ve dreamed about this moment for a long time, but it isn’t how I pictured it. I wanted it to be romantic, instead of during the apocalypse and with a partially smudged penis on my forehead. Okay focus; get your game face on, Tad thought

He began to walk towards Rose, who was on the other side of the room. Each step seemed like an eternity, it felt like there was an entire ocean between them. He was almost there; he was just about to say something when a voice boomed out. “Everyone shut the fuck up; the President is on TV.” The voice belonged to Hook Jericho and everyone watched as the President addressed the nation live from NORAD. Tad’s dream moment would have to wait…again.

When the broadcast was over, there was a collective gasp in the room. Tom the Waiter was the first to speak. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I’ll say, the President has a wicked overbite,” Tad said.

“Those were fangs you idiot. Didn’t you hear what the President said? He is a vampire.”

Tad had not heard the President in fact, because once again he was staring at the Vice President’s boobs. Rose may be the girl of his dreams, but Honey’s boobs were the boobs of his dreams.

“He said he could turn those people back who had already been infected. He has the cure…I mean the cure is him,” Langhorne said.

The Vice President was the only one who didn’t seem surprised by the news.

“You knew about this didn’t you?” Hook asked.

“I knew the President was a vampire; it was something he told me when he ask me to join his ticket when running for President. He wanted to be up front and honest with me and he said if I didn’t what the nomination that he would understand. I said I did want it, and so he swore me to secrecy.”

“I guess we don’t have to throw poop at them anymore,” Katie said trying to brush out the dried poop in her hair.

“They drain the blood from dogs; that’s messed up,” Anna said.

Lorenzo was standing in the corner away from the group with a sheepish look on his face. He remembered back to a time when he had just opened his café. It had been open only three months and it wasn’t doing so well. He was on the verge of having to close down. The café had not caught on like he had hoped and if that weren’t enough, the price of beef had gone up dramatically. He would not be able to afford the meat in order to keep his business afloat. He went out into the alley behind his café; he was in tears. He felt like his dream of being a restaurant owner was over before it even begun. There was a pack of dogs scrounging around, looking for food. He told them to shoo, but they paid no attention to him and that’s when he got the idea. What about dogs? They are meat after all. That day meat was served to all of his customers, which was the same day the President walked in and ordered a sandwich. Once everyone heard that the President was there, the place has been booming ever since.

Half of Washington must be vampires. I better keep this little secret to myself, hey, he thought.

Now that the President’s address was over, Tad resumed his Sleepless in Seattle moment. Rose giggled. The penis that was on his forehead, now looked like a flaccid penis, thanks to the smudge. Once again with his suave ways, charm and cool demeanor he said, “Hey.”

“Hello, fancy meeting you here,” Rose said trying to ease some of the tension.

Geoff punched his brother in the arm and whispered, “say something you chode.”

“I like your blouse,” Tad said. Geoff shook his head in disgust.

“Thank you,” she said shyly. “I like your…” she paused and looked at his outfit. He was wearing a sweater vest and jeans that had grease stains on them. He did however have on a nice pair of Hyperdunks. “…shoes,” she finished.

Geoff took a picture of Tad’s sweater vest and posted it on Twitter with the caption, Barry Manilow’s wardrobe. He thought for a moment and then added #smudgedick.

“Thanks, I got them at the mall. You look pretty,” he blurted out.

Rose’s cheeks turned red matching her name. “Why do you have a flaccid penis on your forehead?”

“Melvin drew it on.” He didn’t have to elaborate, she and Katie had met him earlier and he had sent them dick pics. She now had a whole variety of dicks in her phone. “I can go wash it off.”

“No, that’s okay,” she said taking his hand in hers.

Tad could hardly believe it; he was holding hands with the girl of his dreams. Katie
watched her friend/secret love holding hands with Tad. She felt bitter sweet, because she was happy her friend had met Tad after all this time, but she couldn’t help feeling jealous. She finished brushing the poop out of her hair and walked over to Honey.

“Here’s your brush back.”

“Um..that’s okay, you keep it,” Honey said.

The Vice President addressed everyone in the room. “POTUS is alive and he has a plan. Anyone here know where we can find some vampires?”

The group looked around at one another. One by one their eyes were drawn to the couch and the one raised hand in the room. There Melvin sat, back to everyone, watching The Facts of Life on the big screen.

“You know a vampire?” Larry asked.

“You do too,” Melvin said. “And he’s trying to listen to Mrs. Garrett if you don’t mind.”

Coming Out

Kitty backed against the wall. Her face grew long and she exhaled as if all the air in her lungs wanted out all at once.

Who will lead us now? The President is dead and the Vice President is no where to be found. Is the Speaker of the House alive? Kaitlyn Jenner is definitely not ready for this kind of responsibility, she thought.

A sharp pounding on the glass door of the break room interrupted her thoughts. Enveloped in a cloud of fog from the fire extinguisher is Dr. Fritz Rommel; sort of. He was a zombie now and he was clawing at the glass with his shitty hands, trying to get at her. Luckily, he was pushing on the pull door. As long as the glass held, she was safe.

A loud ruckus started somewhere deep within the foggy room, which momentarily got the doctor’s attention, before he returned to clawing away at the door.

Is that another one? Is it a newly zombified Evan Bacon? Kitty thought.

Kitty heard a quick snap, as Fritz is yanked backwards into the thick smoke; the white air fills the void and he disappears. Kitty freezes and studies the room trying to make sense of it all.

As she moves in closer, a hand reaches out in a flash and grabs the handle of the door. She jumps back and slams into the wall. If it were sheetrock, she might have even passed through it. The door opened and the cottony air spilled out into the hallway..

“Oh my Kanye… How?”

“Yeah, I guess I have some ‘splaining to do,’” Evan said.

Moans were coming from somewhere behind Evan. He turned around to investigate. The room was clearing and he could make out where Fritz and Marietta were lying. Slowly, they were pulling themselves up off the ground. Kitty brought herself closer to Evan and peeked around his shoulder.

“Oh no…” She said. “Wait… They’re okay?”

“Would you look at that,” Evan said.

Evan looked at Kitty; she could see wheels turning behind the lenses of his eyes, like he was trying to manufacturer the correct thing to say.

“Kitty…”

“Please, Mr. President, call me Ace Reporter, Kitty Catan.”

“No, I’m not doing that. Kitty, we need to get to the others. I may have just figured something out.”

“Yes sir, Mr. President.”

“Please, call me Evan.”

“Yes sir, Evan, as you wish.”

“Okay, first of all, go back to calling me Mr. President. I regretted telling you to call me Evan as soon as I heard you say it.”

“Oh… Yes sir.”

“That’s on me,” he said.

A voice rang out from down the hall.

“Mr. President!” Stanley cried out. He stopped running and placed his hands on his meaty knees. Trying to catch his breath, he said between gasps, “We… have to… hurry.”

“What is it, Lunchbox?”

Stanley’s response was indecipherable.

“I think he said Timmy is trapped in a well again,” Kitty joked.

“No… bitch… aliens… coming…”

“Whoever sent you is an asshole,” said the President.

Fritz and Marietta were walking towards the hallway.

“Are you two okay? Can you run?”

“I think so,” Marietta said.

Fritz nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Great, let’s go.”

The three of them started down the hall, as Stanley trailed behind as best he could. As they ran into the control room, Mick greeted them.

“Evan! What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Mick. I’ll explain when we’re all safe.”

“Mr. President, the bird is down, but we can still make it out of here on Air Force Two. Everyone is on board and Eastwood has it fired up and ready. There’s a fleet approaching from the East. Every second counts; they’ll be within following range any moment,” General Norm Usrodd said. ”

“Then there’s no time to lose, General.”

The group ran down the tunnel to join the others. As they reached the breach, they could see Inkaku ships, but they were too close together to make out how many.

“Why are they moving so slowly?” Kitty asked.

“I don’t think they’re moving slowly; I think they’ve stopped,” the general responded.

Yukon was waiting by Air Force Two as they approached. “They stopped about five minutes ago,” he told them. Kitty ran and threw her arms around.

Kitty shot Evan a look; he knew what she was thinking.

“I was gassed five minutes ago,” he said.

The General looked at him with wide eyes. “Sir?”

“Babe? Are you okay? What happened?” Mick asked.”

“Marietta turned into an alien. She and Dr. Rommel attacked me and I fought them as long as I could before Marietta gassed me,” Evan said.

“But they’re both fine now and you’re fine. How is that possible?” Yukon asked.

“I think I’m immune…” Evan said. He looked into Mick’s eyes. “We’re immune.”

Mick seemed to know what Evan was alluding to. He pulled himself into an embrace with his husband. Dr Rommel’s wheels were turning as he tried to solve the riddle.

“Oh!” He exclaimed. “Because you’re gay?”

Everyone paused and stared at him, like he just farted in an elevator.

“Oh no… Am I gay now too?”

“You’re not gay, doctor and we’re not immune because we’re gay,” Mick said.

“Doctor, I’ll explain when we’re all safe. For now, let’s just get back inside,” Evan said.

“Inside?” Marietta asked. “But the aliens–”

“They’ve stopped,” Evan reminded her. “I think they share some sort of psychic bond. You gassed me about the time they stopped coming for me. As far as I can tell, they’ve been coming after me this whole time. They’re probably coming after all the world’s leaders. When you gassed me, they probably thought I was taken care of. I think we’re safe for now, so I need everyone to get inside. I will explain everything to you… to the world. There’s a communications room in one of the lower levels here. We need to get to it. I think I know how we can save the world.”

 

***

It had been an hour since the death of Guy Fieri and the group was still staring at his lifeless body on the floor, except for Tad, who was staring at the Vice President’s boobs. No one said anything about Marlo’s death, no one cared. Tom the waiter, whose real name might actually be Tom the waiter, took off Guy’s iconic shades and put them in his pocket.

“Hey, who said you could have those?” Tad asked.

“He would want someone to have them.”

“He would want someone cool to have them.”

“Well, that rules you out,” Geoff said.

“Enough of this; we need to come up with a plan. Those aliens surprised us earlier with that gas, and I want to be ready for the next attack. I don’t know if the President is alive or not, so I will need to act and make decisions on the assumption that he is,” Honey said.

The only thing that Tad heard was the word come.

“I have a full clip and one extra,” Langhorne said.

“Same here,” Anna said.

Hook pulled out a Berretta from his jacket, as well as a Sig Sauer p238. He also had a bowie knife tucked into his sock. He was always ready for an attack; after all, he did work for the government. “This is how we roll in FEMA.”

“The American people must be terrified; they haven’t heard any updates in hours,” Honey said.

“I doubt they’re sitting at home tuned into their television sets anyway; I’m sure they are busy running for their lives, except maybe in Detroit,” Langhorne said.

“Don’t be stupid, they don’t have televisions in Detroit,” Marlo said.

“He’s right, hey,” Lorenzo said, eating a chicken wing that he had picked up off the kitchen floor.

“We are probably as safe here as we are anywhere else. I think the best thing to do, is wait until we have confirmation about the President. I for one think he is alive; he is a tough bastard,” Anna said.

The group heard a noise in the Theater Room; it sounded like something was knocked over. The Secret Service Agents and Hook drew their guns, and proceeded into the Theater Room. Langhorne motioned for the rest of the group to stay put.

“God damn it Darryl, watch where you’re going! That vase you just broke was a relic from the Ming Dynasty,” Larry said sadly, realizing he no longer had to distinguish, which Darryl he was referring to, since there was only one Darryl now.

“Bitch please, my wife bought one identical to that at The Dollar Tree,” Darryl said.

“You idiot; do you think former President Trump shopped at The Dollar Tree.”

The other agents and Hook dropped their weapons when they saw them.

“Welcome to the party,” Langhorne said with a smile.

“You wouldn’t believe the day we’ve had. I’ll tell you about it, after we’ve had a plate of chicken wings. The thought of Guy’s wings has been the only thing that has kept me going,” Darryl said and could see from their faces that something bad had happened.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but Guy is dead. He turned into an alien and I had to shoot him,” Langhorne said.

“Noooooooo! Muther fuckin’ shit!”

The group in the kitchen heard the voices and came into the Theater Room.

“Why do you have a dick on your forehead dude?” Darryl asked Tad.

Melvin grinned; he drew it there early this morning and no one bothered to tell him about it.

“What? Melvin, you asshole,” Tad said spitting on his fingers and trying to wipe it off.

“You’ll have to scrub harder; I used a sharpie.”

“More importantly, why do you have shit on your head?” Hook asked pointing to Katie.

“I guess we’ve both had weird days. Well, since we won’t be getting any chicken wings, let me just tell you about the day we’ve had,” Larry said.

Larry told the group everything, about how they got on to the spaceship, the rescue of the girls, Darryl number one’s untimely death and how his last act was to knock a shoebox filled with poop out of Katie’s hands.

“Why were you carrying around a shoebox full of poop?” Honey asked Katie.

“It kills aliens; it’s like their kryptonite,” Rose said.

Tad had been staring at Honey’s boobs this whole time and just now noticed Rose.

Oh shit! He thought to himself, as he slipped behind Melvin and increased his efforts to remove the dick drawn on his head.

Geoff smiled. “It’s not coming off, dude; you’re just smudging the dick.”
He quickly snapped a pic of Tad’s head and posted it on Twitter, with the hashtag #SmudgeDick.

Rose’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She checked the notification and began to laugh, showing it to Katie who also began laughing.

“Ha!” Katie chuckled. “Smudge Dick.”

“Dude! You tagged her in it?”

“Yep, and Melvin just retweeted it.”

***

In a section of hallway untraveled for quite some time, deep within the mountain at NORAD, Evan and his gang were coming upon a large metal door marked EBR.

“Kitty, we need to send out radio broadcasts to everyone in the country. I need you there to ask any questions you think the people will have after my statement,” Evan said.

“I can handle it, Sir.”

“I believe you can; I just want you to be prepared. Trust me, this day is about to get even weirder. You think it’s all kittens and dildos now; just wait.”

“I don’t think anyone thinks that, sir… or says that.”

“Oh they do.”

Finally reaching the end of the corridor, Evan, Kitty, and the other survivors reach the emergency broadcast room. It smelled unused and the lighting was, “unflattering” as Mick was quick to point out. Kitty surveyed the room. She couldn’t help but think it looked like the first set of The Tonight Show if Bruce Wayne tried to replicate that set in the Bat Cave. But it was a bit smaller; like the Bat Cave’s bathroom. Kitty fought to hold back her giggles, when she thought about how great it would be if her makeup guy, who just so happens to be named Alfred Butler, were here with her right now.

“How did you know about this place?” Eggs asked.

“It was in the brochure,” Evan replied as if he were serious.

“I hope all this old equipment works,” Yukon said.

“There,” Evan said and pointed to a sound booth.

Evan and Kitty sat down in adjacent chairs and turned to one another, clearing off cobwebs and cleaning their respective areas.

“Okay, let’s see if we can get this puppy up and running, people,” Mick shouted.

After a few minutes and a bit of random lever pulling, everything seemed to be in order. Luckily, Homeland Security Director, Stanley Johnson use to run a small music studio out of his basement back in the nineties during his short rap career under the name C-Rap.

A voice called out, but neither Evan nor Kitty could tell who said it. “We’ll be ready to go in about two minutes.”

“Kitty, I need you to remain perfectly calm. Remember, everything is going to be alright.”

“Yes sir; I understand.”

“It’s going to be a lot tougher than you think… like shitting up a wall.”

“Shitting up a wall?”

“I’m sorry you’re hearing this along with everyone else. I wish I could give you time to absorb it all, but when you and the listeners hear what I have to say; I think you’ll understand. I just hope you don’t freak out too much.”

“What could be worse than an alien attack?”

“My secret,” The President replied. “Coming out to the world was never supposed to happen.”

“But everyone already knows you’re gay.”

“Oh, I’m not gay; my husband is.”

“Now I’m confused,” Kitty said as she tilted her head slightly like a dog trying to figure out how the ice maker on the fridge works.

“If you’re not gay, why would you marry a man during an election year, while running for president? I would think you would’ve liked to avoid that battle.”

“I did it to draw the conversation away from my stutter.”

“Umm… I don’t understand,” she confessed.

“Are you making fun of my speech impediment?” Evan asked in a raised voice.

“No, sir,” Kitty was quick to say before noticing Evan’s grin.

“Are you messing with me, Mr. President?”

Evan nodded. “I’m just breaking the ice.”

The next thirty seconds were the longest in history. Everyone remained as calm as they could be during an alien invasion. On the other side of the booth window, where “all the magic happens,” everyone was preparing for broadcast. It was a stark contrast to the area Kitty and Evan occupied. The time had arrived. What seemed like an eternity of stillness for Kitty was over in three… two… one…

Ladies and Gentleman and anyone out there listening to the sound of my voice. This is Kitty Catan coming to you live from deep within a secure compound, with President Evan Bacon. The President believes we have it in us to turn the tide of this battle. Now, in his own words, Commander In Chief, President Evan Sedgwick Bacon. Mr President …

Thank you, Kitty. My fellow Americans, we’ve been tested today. An unknown enemy descended from the heavens and changed us forever. They answered the question of are we alone in the universe. The answer is a resounding hell no. They hit us and they hit us hard. We were ill prepared for this day. I know all seems lost; I’m here now to tell you that it is not. There is a way. It’s not a pretty solution… I’m sure by now; you think you’ve seen it all, but you haven’t. I know you’re tired of being told to remain calm. Well I’m asking for that again, one last time. I’m asking you to trust me; I am here to help. WE’RE here to help. I am part of a secret society that can end this battle once and for all. Moments ago, I was attacked by two zombies and I survived, but more than that, I successfully cured my attackers. You heard me correctly. There is a cure, if you can avoid it; I ask that you please stop killing the zombies. We have the power to save them. All I ask is from you is, to believe in me and believe in America. Don’t be frightened; we are here to help. We… are Nosferatu.

 

The Colossal Bitch

Larry, Darryl and Darryl were coming out of the roof access door, to the building directly underneath the floating prison, where Katie and Rose were being held.

“How do we reach it?” Darryl number two asked. “This is the highest point and it’s still a few meters over head.”

“More importantly, how is that thing still floating under that Katie chick’s additional weight?” Darryl number one asked.

“There’s our entry point,” Larry said as he pointed to the center of the ship, which hovered between their building and the one across the street. There were a number of antenna-like spires pointing down towards the ground.

“Hold the phone, boss,” Darryl number one said. “Your plan is to jump, isn’t it?

“We can make it; we jump for the spires and shimmy up into the port.”

“Even with the weapons?”

“I’ll go first; put what you can in the duffle and toss it to me. Piece of cake.”

Darryl number two started packing. He was down for whatever; he was just excited and ready to catch some shit on fire.

“Alright,” Darryl number one sighed. “Gotta die somehow.”

Larry left his sniper rifle, because it would not be practical in the close quarters of the ship. Stepping back a few feet, he squatted slightly and lined himself up. He ran as hard and as fast as he could. As he reached the end of his runway, he made his leap. With one hand, he found the spire and he slid down about two yards, before almost slipping free completely. As he hung there, just inches from the tip, he shot the Darryl’s a little smile.

“See? Cake.”

“Just be glad you grabbed it with your whacking hand.” Darryl number one yelled.

Larry shimmied up into the craft and disappeared.

“That lucky sonovabitch is gonna live forever, D.” Darryl number one said.
Darryl left behind what he could, and took his place where Larry started. He looked at his target for a second, then shook his head and stepped back a few more feet. “Here goes nothing.” He bounced half a dozen times, before sprinting for the edge and parting from the building’s edge as hard as he could. He reached out and caught two separate spires with each hand. The smaller spire snapped like a twig; Darryl spun free and began his decent. As he sank, Darryl number two ran to the edge, although he knew it was hopeless. He could hear his friend’s voice pulling further away. “Fuuuuuuck!”

Darryl number one’s life flashed before his eyes; it was boring as hell and almost all the excitement was packed into this day; In fact, the most exciting thing in his life was this fall. He realized in this short period of time, how much he enjoyed murdering aliens. If only he could kill a few more, but unfortunately, the ground had other plans for him. This was how he was going to die; he accepted his fate and closed his eyes. Darryl number one waited for the sudden stop. When it came, he was amazed at how little it hurt; in fact, he didn’t feel a thing. It almost felt as though he was floating upward. Was his soul being pulled to heaven? Darryl cracked an eye; he was enveloped in light.

“God, is that you?”

“No, you dick; it’s Larry,” Darryl number two called out from the rooftop.

Darryl number one focused on the source of the light; it was spewing from a sphere, much like the one that had captured the girls. Holding the sphere was Larry, he had figured it out just in the nick of time.

“I found the elevator,” Larry laughed.

“Oh you beautiful sonovabitch!” Darryl yelled out, as Larry used the sphere to reel him in. “How did you get it to work?”

“I just shoved my finger in this back hole.”

Darryl chuckled.”You fingered the sphere in the ass. Whatever, I don’t judge.”

Larry pointed the sphere in the other Darryl’s direction, and plunged his finger deep into its sphincter switch. The light shot out to snare Darryl number two; who was already jumping up and down in, anticipation of the ride like a kid at Disney World. Armed with only their pistols, a grenade and Darryl number two’s flamethrower, the team resumed their rescue operation.

“As much trouble as we’re going through,” number one said, “The shit in that box better be worth it.”

“Maybe it’s plutonium, and we can enrich it to make a nuclear weapon,” Darryl number two said.

“Don’t be an idiot; it’s not plutonium. Do you think those girls just bought some plutonium at the convenient store,” Larry said.

“Of course I don’t think they bought plutonium at the convenient store; they bought it off some Labias in the mall parking lot,” Darryl number two said.

“That’s Back to the Future dipshit,” Larry said. “And it’s Libyans.”

“Oh… I’ve been saying it wrong this whole time?”

“Let’s move; we’re wasting time,” Darryl number one said.

The Secret Service Agents stealthily made their way down a hallway. The walls of the ship were made of some green gelatinous material that resembled ectoplasm. Larry turned the corner, and nearly collided with an alien. With his pistol already out, he blasted it in the face and the alien dropped, still wearing a look of surprise on its face. The last thing it had expected to see was a human aboard the ship. The group eventually came upon what looked like a door, except it didn’t have a knob. Darryl number one tried pushing the door, but it wouldn’t budge. They heard a noise and ducked behind a corner. Darryl number two peeped out from around the corner, and saw an alien stop in front of the door. The alien opened its mouth, made a strange sounding screech, and the door swung open. Darryl shot the alien in the head with his pistol and it dropped to the floor in a heap.

“Inside, quickly,” Larry shouted. They ran inside the room, where about twenty aliens were working and judging from the equipment, this was the control room. It almost looked like the set of Star Trek and indeed the aliens seemed to be pressing random buttons, just like in the series. The group had the element of surprise, and Darryl number two was going to capitalize on it.

“Hey assholes, guess what? You’re all fired!” He started the flamethrower and blasted a stream of fire. One by one, the aliens screamed and writhed in agony, as they burst into flames.

Larry covered his mouth; the stench of burnt alien was overwhelming.

“You’re all fired? That was the best you could come up with?” Darryl number one asked.

“It’s the best I could come up with on the spot.”

The ship started moving forward at an accelerated rate, causing the Agents to lose their footing and fall.

“What’s happening?” Darryl number two asked.

“You killed all the aliens’ dumbass and now there’s no one left to fly the ship. We are plummeting to the ground,” Larry said.

“Hurry, just press all the buttons,” Darryl number one yelled.

They pressed all the buttons in sight, but the ship was still descending at an alarming speed. Larry saw a lever and pulled it up with all of his strength and the ship slowly began to level off. “I think I shit my pants.” He then pressed the switch that was on the lever and let go. The ship stayed on course. “It’s on autopilot now.”

“Let’s keep moving; we need to find the girls,” Darryl number two said.

The Agents left the control room and came across another door, which looked identical to the first one. Once again, they tried to push the door open, but it didn’t budge.

“Try knocking,” Darryl number one suggested.

“Don’t be retarded; they don’t knock on doors,” Larry said, but just to humor him, he rapped loudly on the door and to his surprise, an alien opened it. Larry shot the alien in the face at point blank range and alien brains splashed all over his face. “OMG, that is so gross.” He wiped his face with his shirt sleeve.

Darryl number one giggled. “See, told you; some things are universal.”

Katie and Rose were in the center of the room, and it appeared as though they were levitating in mid air.

“What the hell? How are they floating in mid air like that?” Larry asked.

“They are probably being held by something we can’t see,” Darryl number one said and went over to a console to press a button.

“No, wait,” the girls shouted in unison, but it was too late, they hit the floor with a loud thud.

“Are you girls okay? They didn’t probe your ass or anything, did they?” Darryl number one asked.

“No, we’re fine,” Katie said. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Daryl number one said.

Katie grabbed the shoebox that the aliens had left behind; fortunately, the turds were still safely inside. Just as they were about to leave the room, some sort of siren began to sound.

“Damn, it’s an alarm,” Larry said.

The group quickly made their way back to the porthole. Luckily, they were close to another rooftop. Rose climbed down first, and then Darryl number two and then Larry. Headed toward Katie and Darryl number one, were at least a dozen Inkaku if not more. Katie started to go through the porthole, but only got halfway in, before she realized she was stuck. The portal was narrow and although Rose, Darryl number two and Larry got through it easily, it was too small for Katie.

“I’m stuck,” she yelled.

Darryl number one started pushing her down. “Get your fat ass down there!” The aliens were almost upon them. Larry started pulling her legs from the bottom; she finally wedged through and fell right on top of him. He began to climb through with the aliens’ right on his tail.

Katie stood up, got her pistol out of her backpack and fired. She thought that Darryl number one had already cleared the porthole, but she was wrong. Katie screamed as Darryl fell to the ground; she had accidentally shot him in the chest.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

“Here take this and throw it through the porthole,” he said and handed her a grenade.

Katie pulled the pin and threw the grenade, but it hit the edge and bounced back. She jumped out of the way, as it exploded and blew Darryl number one’s arm off. He cried out in pain, as blood drained from his chest and arm. The aliens were coming through the porthole and Darryl number two, fired up his flamethrower again and roasted them all.

Katie was holding Darryl number one’s hand, the only hand he had left. “I am so sorry,” she sobbed.

“You can’t aim for shit,” he said.

Darryl number two and Larry rushed to their friends’ side.

“Hold on bro,” Larry said.

Darryl number one was trying to say something. Katie bent down closer, so she could hear.

“What’s in the box?”

“Shush, don’t talk now; save your energy,” Katie said.

“I gave my life for that box to save mankind. What’s in it?”

Katie stared at him blankly. “I thought you knew. The box is filled with turds that we got from a Chipotle bathroom.” She opened it up and showed it to him.

Darryl number one’s eyes widened and once again his life flashed before his eyes and once again it was all very dull.

“You colossal bitch.” With the only hand he had left, he smacked the bottom of the box that she was holding and the turds flew up in the air, landing with a mushy thud like chocolate rain.

“My hair!”

Darryl number one smiled and then he closed his eyes for the last time.

***

Eastwood was running down the hallway at NORAD toward the control room, where the others were awaiting the status of Air Force One and Two. They were all eager to leave and get to the NASA research facility, because they had been under constant attack since arriving. Eastwood’s first stop at Air Force One was disappointing. The Inkaku literally melted it down; the same way they melted fighter jets and missiles that came close to their ships. Air Force Two was still in perfect working condition, thanks to the fact that it missed every attack up until this point, but Eastwood wasn’t hurrying to the others to deliver that good news. He was rushing to warn them of the fleet of ships he spotted on the horizon headed their way.

“We have to go,” he yelled as he rounded the corner. “Now!”

“What is it, more Inkaku?” Stanley Johnson asked.

“There’s a lot more; more than we can handle.”

“What is the status of the transports?” The General inquired.

“Air Force One is pudding.” Eastwood points to the hallway, “We can still take Air Force Two, but the fleet is coming from that direction. I estimate that we have ten minutes, tops. Any later, and we’ll never lose them. Wait, where’s the President?”

“I’ll fetch him,” Kitty said as she turns and runs out of the room.

“He went to the break room with that NASA guy, to find some bottled water or wet naps; he kept trying to touch everyone with his shitty hands,” Yukon said.

The President and Dr. Rommel walked into the break room and immediately they noticed it was wrecked. An alien body was on the floor by the refrigerator, and thawed frozen food entrees were scattered around the floor.

“What the hell happened here?” Dr. Rommel asked.

As soon as the words left his lips, a figure sprung up from behind the couch. It was the President’s missing secretary, Marietta Lewinsky. She was feral and nearly naked; her wifebeater was wet and completely see through. Her black, knee high boots, only accentuated the dish towel hanging from her belt. It was the only thing separating her dirty bean taco, from the rest of the world. Dr. Rommel was equal parts excited and frightened. Stepping back in an attempt to exit the room, his foot found a defrosted Salisbury steak dinner and he lifted off the ground, like a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel. Upon landing, his head struck the door and he collapsed unconscious, like a wet towel, blocking Evan’s escape.

“Marietta… this isn’t you. You can fight this.”

The zombified Marietta, pushed the couch aside and came at Evan full force. With a quick step, Evan dodged the attack and made his way toward the counter, to put distance between them. He looked around to find something to defend himself with. Marietta was back on him before he could turn around. Jumping onto his back, she began clawing at his head. Evan spun and bucked like a county fair bull, but she would not release her hold on him. Evan backed into the wall as hard as he could, and Marietta let out a shriek as she lost her grip on him. Shaking off the attack, Evan reached for the fridge and pulled it forward onto the alien, in order to get something between him and the crazed, half-naked secretary.

“Stop it, Marietta! I don’t want to hurt you!”

Marietta stood up and looked at Evan, as he prepared for her next attack. She stood there, breathing heavy and he turned her gaze to the doctor, who was just beginning to wake.

She went for him…

“No!” Evan cried, but she was upon the doctor in no time, gassing him before he realized what was happening. His face turned blank and he rose up, a shell of his former self. Evan now faced two attackers, but all he could think about, was how the solution may be buried inside the head of the zombie doctor before him.

Evan surveyed the room for potential weapons. He didn’t want to kill either of them, but his choices were limited. It was kill or be killed… or be turned. Marietta pounced first, followed instantly by Fritz. Evan did his best to avoid their attacks, but they were on both sides of him and scratching at him furiously. As they clawed at him, the doctor ripped Evan’s jacket pocket and from it, fell a cigar in an aluminum case; he had forgotten he had it. His plan was to save it for a special occasion.

This occasion seems special enough, he thought.

Evan picked up the cigar and thrust it into Marietta’s eye. He then grabbed her with both hands, while she was stunned, and pushed her backwards into the overturned fridge. As he spun back around toward Fritz, he connected with a left jab, which snapped the doctor’s head back like a Pez dispenser. For the second time since they entered the break room, Dr. Rommel fell to the floor. Evan noticed the fire extinguisher on the wall by the stove and went for it. He pulled the pin and turned, to discover Marietta was closer than when he left her. She was now directly in front of him, cigar and all. He fired the canister, but she had already belched out her noxious gas in his face.

The room filled, as the extinguisher’s contents continued to spill from the canister, blocking Kitty’s view. She arrived just in time to see the President drop out of sight.