And she wasn't even trying back then as she was now. She was actually playing tag and hide-and-seek with a little boy and his pet stuffed leopard.
Yes, Gazpacho of the Andes was no match for Mallet Girl. He was definitely way in over his head. There was little doubt in Alias Uno's mind.
Mallet Girl had had enough. All her demands that Gazpacho of the Andes stop and let her mallet, kick, stomp, knee, elbow, punch, scratch, and headbutt him to within a millimeter of his sad, sorry life had gone unheeded. There was just no reasoning with the guy! Reaching back, she flipped a tiny switch near the bottom of her mallet holster; a small panel slid open and out rolled a black croquet ball, gently dropping into her waiting hand.
And what a croquet ball it was!
It was slightly bigger than normal and had a white skull-and-cross-bones painted on its study-ridden surface. A six-inch-long, self-igniting rope fuse was sticking out of it.
While still maintaining a firm hold on her mallet, she pinched the tip of the fuse with thumb and index finger of her other hand. Flicking her fingers, she lit the fuse and then dropped the ball and struck it with her trusty wooden mallet upon the first bounce, all in one swift move. And thus the ball was sent arcing towards the fleeing villain.
But Gazpacho of the Andes was no slouch himself. He may be a crook, a criminal, a kidnapper, and a molester extraordinaire but he was clearly no ordinary pervert on the street. He was Gazpacho of the Andes and he was not without any skills. He skidded to a halt and whipped around, arms outstretched in front of him, hands open, one a couple of inches above the other.
“El Ceramico Blanco!” he shouted.
There was a shimmering of white-blue light. And then a giant, white porcelain bow, roughly three feet in diameter, appeared floating in the air around a yard in front of him. It was empty and tipped over, its concave surface facing towards Mallet Girl. It caught the smoking croquet ball with ease and then with a gesture from Gazpacho, it swivelled slight and deflected the ball to the left.
“What the...!?” Mallet Girl cried. “Hey! No fair!”
Gazpacho laughed triumphantly in reply. “Nya-ha-hah! I am Gazpacho of the Andes! Quiver in awe before my magnificent coif! Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!” he gloated out loud even as the large, white bowl dropped to shatter into tiny porcelain shards against the hard concrete of the sidewalk.
The black croquet ball landed on the sidewalk at the other side of the avenue. It bounced one more time before rolling into the open basement window of a run-down apartment building. Like many buildings in the area, it was decrepit, crumbling, long ago deserted and condemned; it would have been demolished already and in its place a nine-level mega-parking facility servicing what would have been the biggest mall/amusement park of Axion Plus City had the developer not lost everything gambling in high stake stag beetle death matches.
At least, it should have been abandoned. But unbeknownst to the city government and the few remaining residents of the area, bad kitties had moved in and for months now, the building had been serving as the secret headquarters of Cat's Meow, an evil organization of dark-colored cats united in the common cause of driving everyone out of the city by any means necessary and claiming Axion Plus for their own.
Scores of bad kitties were gathered in the main corridor of the groun floor. Their leader had called for a meeting and many had come.
“Brothers!” the top cat meowed from the small, round table at the end of the corridor. “Sisters! Weeks of planning and preparation have finally come to fruition! All our efforts are about to pay off! Soon we will rid this fair city of the human blight and Catnip City will finally be ours!”
“Dark coat good,” all the cats chanted in unison, “light coat bad!”
“Victory is an hand!” the top cat declared. “Behold! The final thorn in our side!” It pulled down the faded curtains behind it with a flourish to reveal a hapless Siamese cat hanging on the wall by its shackled front paws.
“Naughty kitties!” it meowed. “You expect me to talk? Hah! I will never tell you where I hid the codes. Never!”
“No, Agent 700,” the top cat meowed back smugly, “I expect you to be declawed. We already have the codes.”
“Dark coat good,” all the cats chanted, staring at the Siamese cat with unblinking eyes, “light coat bad!”
“Hey, guys! Look what I found in the basement!” a young black cat with a green lace ribbon tied around its neck called out loud as it entered the corridor, walking awkwardly on its hind legs. In its front paws, it held the black croquet ball.
All the cats in the corridor were completely overcome with curiosity. “Ooooh!” they all purred, turning their heads to look. “What is it? What is it?”
“I don't know,” the young black cat replied. “It's a ball of some sort.”
“Brothers, sisters!” the top cat called out to them. “Now is not the time to be distracted!”
But the gathered cats were not listening. They paid him no heed.
“Ooooh, a ball!” they all meowed, crowding around the young black cat.
“I think there's something inside,” the young black cat said as she shook the ball. “It was hissing a few moments ago.”
“Ooooh!”
The explosion that followed next was a terrific one. It leveled the whole building, sending dust, fur, bad kitties with X's for eyes, and all sorts of debris flying in all directions.
Saturday, February 6, 2021
Saturday, January 9, 2021
PAGE 46 TO PAGE 48
Just then, a loud banging came from the floor. It was the man staying in the apartment below.
“For crying out loud, ladies!” he cried. “Will you keep it down up there? I'm trying to watch the television here!”
“Oh, brother!” Jenna muttered and then hollered back, “You don't have a television!”
“Yeah? Well, um, I'm listening to the radio!”
“Hah! Try again, old man! You don't have a radio! You sold it last week!”
“Oh, fine!” the man exclaimed. “I'm reading my porn magazines! I'm looking at dirty naked pictures of nubile young women in compromising positions! There! I said it! I admit it to the whole world. Are you happy now? Are you satisfied?”
“Get a job, you freeloader!” Jenna retorted. “It's the middle of the day!”
“I have a condition!” the man replied.
“Jennaaaaa!” Jenna's mother called out.
“Whaaaaat!?”
“Stop teasing your uncle! Just leave him be! You know very well he's incompetent!”
“Yeah!” her uncle vigorously agreed. “I'm on dis-- Hey! What's the matter with you, woman!? I'm not incontinent! How many times do I have to tell you? It was an accident that one time! One time!”
The phone began ringing again and it was with a great sich of relief that Jenn picked up the receiver and answered, leaving her mother and her uncle to bicker. “Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. You have it, we break it. How may we be of service?”
She listened for a bit, nodding slowly and slightly, before saying, “Ah, wrong number. You want the bakery across the street, the Queen of Tarts Bakery and Lingerie Shop. Their tarts are heavenly and the undergarments to die for. Not that I wear any. Undergarments that is. Not the tarts. Yeah. Uh-huh. You should try out their Squid Ink Angel Hair Clam Tarts. Very authentic, I must say. Looks just like...”
“Dang it, woman!” Jenna's uncle was screaming. “Mother told you to stop calling me that! That's it! That's the last straw! I'm calling her right now and telling on you!”
Ah, yeah, just another day for the Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Just business as usual.
“For crying out loud, ladies!” he cried. “Will you keep it down up there? I'm trying to watch the television here!”
“Oh, brother!” Jenna muttered and then hollered back, “You don't have a television!”
“Yeah? Well, um, I'm listening to the radio!”
“Hah! Try again, old man! You don't have a radio! You sold it last week!”
“Oh, fine!” the man exclaimed. “I'm reading my porn magazines! I'm looking at dirty naked pictures of nubile young women in compromising positions! There! I said it! I admit it to the whole world. Are you happy now? Are you satisfied?”
“Get a job, you freeloader!” Jenna retorted. “It's the middle of the day!”
“I have a condition!” the man replied.
“Jennaaaaa!” Jenna's mother called out.
“Whaaaaat!?”
“Stop teasing your uncle! Just leave him be! You know very well he's incompetent!”
“Yeah!” her uncle vigorously agreed. “I'm on dis-- Hey! What's the matter with you, woman!? I'm not incontinent! How many times do I have to tell you? It was an accident that one time! One time!”
The phone began ringing again and it was with a great sich of relief that Jenn picked up the receiver and answered, leaving her mother and her uncle to bicker. “Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. You have it, we break it. How may we be of service?”
She listened for a bit, nodding slowly and slightly, before saying, “Ah, wrong number. You want the bakery across the street, the Queen of Tarts Bakery and Lingerie Shop. Their tarts are heavenly and the undergarments to die for. Not that I wear any. Undergarments that is. Not the tarts. Yeah. Uh-huh. You should try out their Squid Ink Angel Hair Clam Tarts. Very authentic, I must say. Looks just like...”
“Dang it, woman!” Jenna's uncle was screaming. “Mother told you to stop calling me that! That's it! That's the last straw! I'm calling her right now and telling on you!”
Ah, yeah, just another day for the Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Just business as usual.
CHAPTER THREE
Gazpacho of the Andes was on the run. The cunning bounty hunter Mallet Girl had just foiled his latest caper and he had been looking forward to the little bit of molestation fun, too. His latest victim-to-be was just so cute and adorable that he had been barely able to contain himself.
But even now, in his moment of defeat, he had found himself bursting with laughter and good humor. He was quite enjoying the moment, savoring every single bitter second of it. Like any good super villain, he was quite the incorrigible bastard and the prospect of eluding and outwitting his super hero nemesis was sending him to the very heights of ecstasy. Even now, he was already planning his nect kidnapping scheme as he sped down the sidewalk, shoving hapless pedestrians aside like rag dolls and kicking stray dogs and cats out of the way, his glorious red cape flowing and flapping magnificently behind him. There was this petting zoo in the plush environs of East Axion Plus he had been meaning to visit.
Mallet Girl was hot on his heels, doing her fair share of violence. Once she even swung her trusty wooden mallet like a golf club, sending the poor, mangy dog and the large soup bone it had been carrying in its mouth tumbling into the air and disappearing in the distance.
“Stop in the name of money!” Mallet Girl commanded. “You are under arrest, Pistachio! That bounty on your head is mine!”
“That's Gazpacho of the Andes!” Gazpacho called back.
“Whatever!” she went. “Just stop running already so I can bash you on the head and beat you senseless!”
But Gazpacho of the Andes only guffawed in response and picked up his pace even more.
“Why you...!” Mallet Girl protested. “Come back here and take your beating like a man!”
Alias Uno was on the rooftops, following and tracking them. He paused to watch them through a tiny pair of binoculars. “Heading to ol' Bricktowne, huh?” he whispered. “Well that's mighty convenient. Not very populated that place these days. We'll be able to keep casualties down to a minimum this time. At least.”
Still, Alias Uno was worried. This was Gazpacho's turf after all. Leastways, he was bound to be more familiar with the area than they were and those old tenements were like one huge rat maze. He shuddered at the thought of how Mallet Girl would react if she ever lost sight of her quarry when she was this excited.
For a moment, he considered going down and giving her a hand.
It was but a fleeting moment though. Thankfully. He quickly reconsidered and thought better of it, the memories of what happened the last time he tried to help her fight a super villain rushing in from the back of his mind like a great deluge of cold, dark water. He turned pallid white as he relived the months of spent in that horrible hospital bed, which wouldn't have been all that bad if Mallet Girl hadn't taken it upon herself to visit him everyday and nurse him back to health herself, and the painful physical therapy that followed. He'll be damned if he'll have to go through all that again.
And besides, Mallet Girl was definitely more than a match for such a third-rate villain like Gazpacho of the Andes. They were mile apart by his reckoning. After all, was it not Mallet Girl who put an end to the dastardly dealings of Bull's Run, the evil international terrorist organization bent on wold domination by genetically mutating the world's population into half-bovine, half-human slaves? And pay the electric bill, balance the agency's finances, stop a bank robbery, service a fleet of taxi cabs, and solve the city's power crisis by foiling an alien invasion to boot all in the same afternoon?
Friday, December 11, 2020
PAGE 43 TO PAGE 45
Just then, the telephone rang.
Jenna groaned. “Chehhh...” she mumbled as she slid her feet off the table and sat up. “Looks like breaktime's over.”
She put out her cigarette on the ash tray and let the phone ring a couple more times before answering. “Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Can you be helped?”
She listened for a moment and then slowly answered, “Yeah, that does sound delicious but you want Hakeem's Thaiwanese Rice Tacos downstairs.”
Hanging up, she took out her pack of black cigarettes from the desk drawer and flipped a stick into her mouth all in one smooth, well-practiced move. “We have got to get a new number,” she muttered under her breath as she pushed the drawer back in.
The phone rang again. It was the same guy.
“Look,” Jenna said, “you want the restaurant downstairs. This is the Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Hakeem's Thai-- Yeah, we do delivery jobs. Why? Well, sure, we can pick up and deliver your order. No problem. We'll have your sweet and sour pork chimichangas delivered to your doorstep and have you greeted with a smile all for the measly price of one hundred dollars. The cost of the chimichangas not included of course. You'll still have to pay for those.”
“A hundred dollars!?” the phone exclaimed.
“We here at the Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency,” Jenna replied calmly, “pride ourselves in a job well done. We make sure all packages are delivered on time. At any cost. No bandits or thieves or rabid beasts, no assassins or corporate spies or super villains or terrorist organizations will keep us from finishing any job we accept. When you think about it, a hundred dollars is really quite cheap, all things considered. You can rest assured that your precious sweet and sour pork chimichangas will be safe with us. You'll be biting into that delicious, spicy goodness by eight this evening. Hello? Hello?”
Jenna put the phone back down. “Chehhh...”
With a small, black disposable lighter, she lit the cigarette in her mouth. A couple of quick puffs followed a long drag. She had hardly finished exhaling the sweet-smelling smoke when the telephone went off again.
“Hello? Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Wholesale destruction costs extra. Hello? Oh, it's you, Steven. What's up? Mallet Girl? She's not back yet. Sent her out this morning to look for some dude. Yeah? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, I'll tell her. Oh, fine. Just fine. So, dinner's still on this evening? Yeah, see you all this evening then.”
She hung up. Leaning back on her chair, which creaked in protest, she continued smoking. After a while, she hung back her head and shouted at the top of her voice. “Maaaaaaa!!!”
“Whaaaat!?” came the equally vocal reply from the apartment directly above her.
“When Mally gets back,” Jenna hollered back, “tell her Steven called!”
“For the hundredth time, dear, I'm not your secretary! Go tell her yourself!”
“But, Maaaaaaa!”
“Whaaaat!? Oh, fine! I'll tell her! Anything else?”
“Yeah, Steven wants her to know that her order of foam rubber mallets has arrived! Oh, and she needs to buy more mallet polish! The more expensive kind, not the cheap kind!”
“Fine, dear! I'll tell her!”
There was a short pause, long enough for Jenna to sneak a couple of quick puffs on her cigarette, and then her mother yelled, “Jennaaaaa!”
“Whaaaat!?” Jenna replied.
“What do you want for dinner? I feel like having eggplants this evening! And pineapples! How do you feel about pineapples and eggplants?”
“Sounds nice! But I'll be going out tonight!”
“That's great, dear! Have fun! But what do you want for dinner this evening?”
“No, Maaaaa! I'll be out all night! I'll be eating out! Eating out!”
“Whaaaat? Take-out? No, dear! No need for take-out! I'll be cooking dinner!”
“No, Maaaaa! Eating out! I'll be eating out with my friends!”
“Friends? Okay! How many are coming over?”
“No, Maaaaa!”
“Whaaaat? I need to know how many plates to set on the table!”
Jenna covered her face with her palm and slowly shook her head. She must be blow-drying her hair again. Her mother was always messing around with her hair. Jenna took a deep breath and raised her voice even louder. “I won't be eating dinner tonight! I'll be going out!”
“Whaaaaat?”
“Maaaaaaa!!!”
“Whaaaat!?”
“Oh, never mind!”
“Mind? Of course I don't mind! I love having company over!”
Jenna groaned in frustration.
Jenna groaned. “Chehhh...” she mumbled as she slid her feet off the table and sat up. “Looks like breaktime's over.”
She put out her cigarette on the ash tray and let the phone ring a couple more times before answering. “Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Can you be helped?”
She listened for a moment and then slowly answered, “Yeah, that does sound delicious but you want Hakeem's Thaiwanese Rice Tacos downstairs.”
Hanging up, she took out her pack of black cigarettes from the desk drawer and flipped a stick into her mouth all in one smooth, well-practiced move. “We have got to get a new number,” she muttered under her breath as she pushed the drawer back in.
The phone rang again. It was the same guy.
“Look,” Jenna said, “you want the restaurant downstairs. This is the Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Hakeem's Thai-- Yeah, we do delivery jobs. Why? Well, sure, we can pick up and deliver your order. No problem. We'll have your sweet and sour pork chimichangas delivered to your doorstep and have you greeted with a smile all for the measly price of one hundred dollars. The cost of the chimichangas not included of course. You'll still have to pay for those.”
“A hundred dollars!?” the phone exclaimed.
“We here at the Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency,” Jenna replied calmly, “pride ourselves in a job well done. We make sure all packages are delivered on time. At any cost. No bandits or thieves or rabid beasts, no assassins or corporate spies or super villains or terrorist organizations will keep us from finishing any job we accept. When you think about it, a hundred dollars is really quite cheap, all things considered. You can rest assured that your precious sweet and sour pork chimichangas will be safe with us. You'll be biting into that delicious, spicy goodness by eight this evening. Hello? Hello?”
Jenna put the phone back down. “Chehhh...”
With a small, black disposable lighter, she lit the cigarette in her mouth. A couple of quick puffs followed a long drag. She had hardly finished exhaling the sweet-smelling smoke when the telephone went off again.
“Hello? Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Wholesale destruction costs extra. Hello? Oh, it's you, Steven. What's up? Mallet Girl? She's not back yet. Sent her out this morning to look for some dude. Yeah? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, I'll tell her. Oh, fine. Just fine. So, dinner's still on this evening? Yeah, see you all this evening then.”
She hung up. Leaning back on her chair, which creaked in protest, she continued smoking. After a while, she hung back her head and shouted at the top of her voice. “Maaaaaaa!!!”
“Whaaaat!?” came the equally vocal reply from the apartment directly above her.
“When Mally gets back,” Jenna hollered back, “tell her Steven called!”
“For the hundredth time, dear, I'm not your secretary! Go tell her yourself!”
“But, Maaaaaaa!”
“Whaaaat!? Oh, fine! I'll tell her! Anything else?”
“Yeah, Steven wants her to know that her order of foam rubber mallets has arrived! Oh, and she needs to buy more mallet polish! The more expensive kind, not the cheap kind!”
“Fine, dear! I'll tell her!”
There was a short pause, long enough for Jenna to sneak a couple of quick puffs on her cigarette, and then her mother yelled, “Jennaaaaa!”
“Whaaaat!?” Jenna replied.
“What do you want for dinner? I feel like having eggplants this evening! And pineapples! How do you feel about pineapples and eggplants?”
“Sounds nice! But I'll be going out tonight!”
“That's great, dear! Have fun! But what do you want for dinner this evening?”
“No, Maaaaa! I'll be out all night! I'll be eating out! Eating out!”
“Whaaaat? Take-out? No, dear! No need for take-out! I'll be cooking dinner!”
“No, Maaaaa! Eating out! I'll be eating out with my friends!”
“Friends? Okay! How many are coming over?”
“No, Maaaaa!”
“Whaaaat? I need to know how many plates to set on the table!”
Jenna covered her face with her palm and slowly shook her head. She must be blow-drying her hair again. Her mother was always messing around with her hair. Jenna took a deep breath and raised her voice even louder. “I won't be eating dinner tonight! I'll be going out!”
“Whaaaaat?”
“Maaaaaaa!!!”
“Whaaaat!?”
“Oh, never mind!”
“Mind? Of course I don't mind! I love having company over!”
Jenna groaned in frustration.
Wednesday, November 18, 2020
PAGE 40 TO PAGE 42
“Oh, yeah!” Mallet Girl nodded. “Those things. You know, I tried one of those new-fangled fight games once. It was a big disappointment. I mean, what a kind of fight game explodes after just one hit? What a gyp! I demanded my money back but the arcade manager threw me out instead.”
“Hey, wait a minute!” she then exclaimed. “How you still have half your lifebar? Those were pretty good hits I gave ya!”
Fried Chicken Wing Guy laughed with glee in response. “Tougher than I looked, aren't I? I'm not the ninth strongest member of Alpha Phi Omegatron Delta Force for nothing. I may not be the strongest physically or the fastest or the most skilled but I pride myself in being the toughest, in my ability to take damage. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“Well how about that!” Mallet Girl said, indicating the lifebar floating over her head. “Mine's still full.”
“Gaaahhh!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy's eyes literally bulged out of their sockets almost to the verge of popping out completely. Such was his shock and utter disbelief at what he was seeing. “H-h-how is that even possible!? It can't be!”
It was then that Mallet Girl noticed Gazpacho of the Andes for the very first time since she and Fried Chicken Wing Guy fell into the room.
“Oh, hello,” she greeted him. “Sorry for dropping in all of the sudden and carrying on like that but this guy just won't quit.”
Still in shock, Gazpacho of the Andes simply stared back at her and said nothing. He looked at her and then at Fried Chicken Wing Guy, and then back at her again.
“I see...” he murmured finally and then more audibly, declared, “I see what you are trying to do, Mallet Girl.” He pointed at Fried Chicken Wing Guy. “And you, too, Alias Uno. I did not realize you such a master of disguise. You two almost had me fooled but this amateur performance of yours is simply too asinine I'd have to be a three-year-old to believe it. I have but one thing to say to that.”
Suddenly, her turned and leapt out of the open window. “I am no three-year-old! Nya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” he shouted as he scurried down the fire escape.
“What the...!?” Mallet Girl cried.
“You may have foiled my plans this time, Mallet Girl! But victory shall ultimately be mine! I leave now to molest another day! Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
It was then that the door burst open and Alias Uno came running into the room. “Mallet Girl!” he called out to her. “That's him! That's Gazpacho of the Andes!”
“What!?”
“Gazpacho of the Andes!” Alias Uno repeated. “His name's on the mailbox downstairs. I even confirmed it with the manager of the 7-Ate-9 convenience store out front.”
“Who?” Mallet Girl looked at him as though he had gone insane. What the heck was he going on about?
Alias Uno sighed. “That Pistachio guy we were--”
“Dang!” Mallet girl exclaimed. “Why didn't you say so in the first place? Come on! He's getting away!”
She rushed to the window, sheathing her mallet as she went, and hurriedly clambered out of the room.
“Go get him, Mallet Girl!” Alias Uno hollered after her. “I'll keep track of him from the rooftops!”
And with that, he, too, was gone, leaving Fried Chicken Wing guy, the little girl, and the pretty pink pony all wide-eyed and confused, all three of them thinking in unison, “What the heck just happened?”
“TIME'S UP!” the deep, thunderous voice bellowed. “MALLET GIRL WINS!”
“Hey, wait a minute!” she then exclaimed. “How you still have half your lifebar? Those were pretty good hits I gave ya!”
Fried Chicken Wing Guy laughed with glee in response. “Tougher than I looked, aren't I? I'm not the ninth strongest member of Alpha Phi Omegatron Delta Force for nothing. I may not be the strongest physically or the fastest or the most skilled but I pride myself in being the toughest, in my ability to take damage. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“Well how about that!” Mallet Girl said, indicating the lifebar floating over her head. “Mine's still full.”
“Gaaahhh!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy's eyes literally bulged out of their sockets almost to the verge of popping out completely. Such was his shock and utter disbelief at what he was seeing. “H-h-how is that even possible!? It can't be!”
It was then that Mallet Girl noticed Gazpacho of the Andes for the very first time since she and Fried Chicken Wing Guy fell into the room.
“Oh, hello,” she greeted him. “Sorry for dropping in all of the sudden and carrying on like that but this guy just won't quit.”
Still in shock, Gazpacho of the Andes simply stared back at her and said nothing. He looked at her and then at Fried Chicken Wing Guy, and then back at her again.
“I see...” he murmured finally and then more audibly, declared, “I see what you are trying to do, Mallet Girl.” He pointed at Fried Chicken Wing Guy. “And you, too, Alias Uno. I did not realize you such a master of disguise. You two almost had me fooled but this amateur performance of yours is simply too asinine I'd have to be a three-year-old to believe it. I have but one thing to say to that.”
Suddenly, her turned and leapt out of the open window. “I am no three-year-old! Nya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” he shouted as he scurried down the fire escape.
“What the...!?” Mallet Girl cried.
“You may have foiled my plans this time, Mallet Girl! But victory shall ultimately be mine! I leave now to molest another day! Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
It was then that the door burst open and Alias Uno came running into the room. “Mallet Girl!” he called out to her. “That's him! That's Gazpacho of the Andes!”
“What!?”
“Gazpacho of the Andes!” Alias Uno repeated. “His name's on the mailbox downstairs. I even confirmed it with the manager of the 7-Ate-9 convenience store out front.”
“Who?” Mallet Girl looked at him as though he had gone insane. What the heck was he going on about?
Alias Uno sighed. “That Pistachio guy we were--”
“Dang!” Mallet girl exclaimed. “Why didn't you say so in the first place? Come on! He's getting away!”
She rushed to the window, sheathing her mallet as she went, and hurriedly clambered out of the room.
“Go get him, Mallet Girl!” Alias Uno hollered after her. “I'll keep track of him from the rooftops!”
And with that, he, too, was gone, leaving Fried Chicken Wing guy, the little girl, and the pretty pink pony all wide-eyed and confused, all three of them thinking in unison, “What the heck just happened?”
“TIME'S UP!” the deep, thunderous voice bellowed. “MALLET GIRL WINS!”
INTERLUDE – BUSINESS AS USUAL
A sparsely-furnished room. Just a rectangular office table, a couple of wooden stools in front of the table, an office chair behind the table, and a steel filing cabinet in the corner. There's an old-style rotary phone on the table as well as a small glass ash tray that was filled to the brim with ashes and black cigarette butts. And there's a tall, green ceramic vase holding a daffodils set atop the filing cabinet.
Old, peeling wallpaper with light-brown puppy dog pattern covered the walls and hanging on the wall directly behind the table was an electric sign in bright ret and blue neon lights saying, “QUEEN OF HEARTS Delivery & Bounty Hunter Agency”.
Jenna was seated on the chair, leaning back with her heavily-shod feet resting on the table. She was puffing heavily on one of her black cigarettes, breathing out billows of light-grey smoke and filling the room with the scents of tobacco, chocolate, and cinnamon. It was shaping out to be just another day for the Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. As usual, the phone had been ringing nonstop all morning. Mostly, they were wrong numbers, calls intended for the restaurant downstairs.
There were several legitimate calls though she highly doubted that Mallet Girl will be all too excited to hear about them when she comes back this afternoon. They were all pick-up and delivery orders after all. They typically left that sort of stuff to Foul Ball McCoy and his trusty sidekick Bull Pen Jane. But the two had recently tied the know and were out of town on their honeymoon. Mallet Girl will just have to grin and bear it. Oh, no doubt she'll pout. She'll whine. She'll complain. She'll even threaten her with grievous bodily har most likely. Jenna knew her friend all too well. But money was money and there were bills to pay.
Jenna wasn't worried. She rarely was when it came to Mallet Girl. She had mastered a long time ago the fine art of dealing with her violet childhood friend. Most of all, she knew Mallet Girl's greatest weakness, her Achilles' Heel so to speak. But it won't have to come to that. Mallet Girl knew her as much as she Mallet Girl after all.
Besides, Jenna was confident Alias Uno will keep Mallet Girl in line. He always did. Well, usually. For the most part at least. Jenna grinned. She can't wait to see the horrified expression of the poor man's face when she tells them what their jobs will entail for the next couple of days.
Saturday, October 24, 2020
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“Cute-looking sphinx though,” she thought.
“Hah! I'm too smart for the likes of you,” Fried Chicken Wing Guy taunted her. “You're gonna have to get up very early in the morning indeed to get one over me. No, siree, you can't fool me into revealing that the oh-so-obvious evil master plan my mistress concocted to corner the garlic salt market and thus bring the city to its knees was actually one big ruse and the her real target was the Kansas Fricasseed Chicken chain of restaurants all along. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“I understood nothing of what you just said,” Mallet Girl replied. “But it sure sounded might incriminating. I'm bringing you in!”
Fried Chicken Wing Guy blinked. He was confused but only for a moment. It quickly dawned upon him and he realized what he had just done. “Gaaahhh!” he cried, pulling at his hair in dismay. “You tricked me! I can't believe you tricked me! You're gonna pay for that!”
He thrusted both arms forward and held them straight, hands wide open, palms aimed at Mallet Girl. “Tofu Chain of Death!” he shouted. “Haaiiieeee!”
Mallet Girl instinctively braced herself. She had sensed the sudden rise in his fighting spirit and her body reacted before she could even think about it. She threw up her hands, her mallet still held tightly in one, and crossed her forearms defensively in front of her. “Waaaahhhhh!” she went, her eyes tightly shut.
But nothing happened.
“Huh?” she said, opening one eye to take a peek.
Fried Chicken Wing Guy was equally baffled, maybe even more so for he had practiced that very move countless of times until he had gotten it down pat. He could perform that move even in his sleep. There should have been very little chance that it would have failed him as miserably and as embarassingly as it had just now. “What?” he asked himself thus, even as he stared in disbelief at his hands.
It was only when his eyes strayed down to his body that his fatal error became evident.
“Gaaahhh!” he cried out loud, a horrified expression on his face. “I totally forgot! I'm not wearing my ninja henchman uniform!”
Mallet Girl couldn't help herself. For some reason, the situation just struck her as extremely hilarious that she began to giggle uncontrollably. “What an idiot! What an imbecile!” she chortled, pointing at Fried Chicken Wing Guy with her thumb whilst clutching at her stomach. “What a morooon!”
“Nooooo!” he went. “You shut up! You've made a fool of me for the last time, Mallet Girl. I was gonna take it easy on you and finish you off quickly with that move but seeing as how I can't do any more special attacks without my official ninja henchman gear -- patent pending -- I'm gonna have to settle this fight with basic henchman moves and you'll be oh-so-sorry cuz now you're going down hard.”
“Oh, bring it on!” Mallet Girl excitedly replied. She raised a clenched fist, challenging him to do just that. “I've tangled with tougher blokes than you. And that's way back in grade school. I'm not afraid of a little rough foreplay!”
“Grrrrr...wait.” Fried Chicken Wing Guy paused. He blinked. “What?”
“What?”
“Um...”
“Oh, never mind!” Mallet Girl exclaimed. With her trusty mallet clenched with both hands, she charged. “It's Mallet Time!”
Fists at the ready and poised to attack or defend, Fried Chicken Wing Guy responded in kind.
“Graaaaahhhhh!!!” he shouted.
“Yaaaaaahhhhhh!!!” yelled Mallet Girl.
And as the distance between the combatants shortened, a deep, thunderous voice suddenly boomed. “MALLET GIRL versus FRIED CHICKEN WING GUY – FIGHT!!!”
But it was all lost upon the two for so focused were they upon each other they heard not one word of it. They pounced upon each other as soon as they got within striking distance and proceeded to unleash one attack after another.
“Crescent Mallet Strike!” Mallet Girl hollered as she leapt up and struck Fried Chicken Wing Guy with a down mallet swing on her way down.
“Elite Henchman Salute!” cried Fried Chicken Wing Guy. He stepped back, saluted with his right hand, and then swiftly lunged forward for a karate chop to the side of Mallet Girl's neck.
“Tornado Smash!” Mallet Girl responded, spinning like a top for multiple hits with her mallet.
“Henchman Uppercut!” went Fried Chicken Wing Guy, the move basically a jab-jab-uppercut boxing combo.
“Babe Ruth Home Run Special!” Mallet Girl swung her mallet like a baseball bat.
“FPJ Fists of Flurry! Fried Chicken Wing Guy viciously clapped Mallet Girl on the ears then delivered a flurry of punches to her stomach, finishing the combination with another clap attack to her ears.
“Nutcracker--” Mallet Girl stopped in her tracks. Something had caught her attention. “Wait. What the heck is that?” she asked as she pointed at the space just above Fried Chicken Wing Guy.
“Huh?” He looked up. There, floating in mid-air, was long, red-outlined rectangle. “What the...!? What is that? Wait. Is that...? Hey, it is!” He looked at Mallet Girl. “It's a lifebar.”
Mallet Girl was perplexed. “A what?”
“A lifebar. You know, those things in arcade video games that tell you how much more damage your character can take before going down.”
“Hah! I'm too smart for the likes of you,” Fried Chicken Wing Guy taunted her. “You're gonna have to get up very early in the morning indeed to get one over me. No, siree, you can't fool me into revealing that the oh-so-obvious evil master plan my mistress concocted to corner the garlic salt market and thus bring the city to its knees was actually one big ruse and the her real target was the Kansas Fricasseed Chicken chain of restaurants all along. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“I understood nothing of what you just said,” Mallet Girl replied. “But it sure sounded might incriminating. I'm bringing you in!”
Fried Chicken Wing Guy blinked. He was confused but only for a moment. It quickly dawned upon him and he realized what he had just done. “Gaaahhh!” he cried, pulling at his hair in dismay. “You tricked me! I can't believe you tricked me! You're gonna pay for that!”
He thrusted both arms forward and held them straight, hands wide open, palms aimed at Mallet Girl. “Tofu Chain of Death!” he shouted. “Haaiiieeee!”
Mallet Girl instinctively braced herself. She had sensed the sudden rise in his fighting spirit and her body reacted before she could even think about it. She threw up her hands, her mallet still held tightly in one, and crossed her forearms defensively in front of her. “Waaaahhhhh!” she went, her eyes tightly shut.
But nothing happened.
“Huh?” she said, opening one eye to take a peek.
Fried Chicken Wing Guy was equally baffled, maybe even more so for he had practiced that very move countless of times until he had gotten it down pat. He could perform that move even in his sleep. There should have been very little chance that it would have failed him as miserably and as embarassingly as it had just now. “What?” he asked himself thus, even as he stared in disbelief at his hands.
It was only when his eyes strayed down to his body that his fatal error became evident.
“Gaaahhh!” he cried out loud, a horrified expression on his face. “I totally forgot! I'm not wearing my ninja henchman uniform!”
Mallet Girl couldn't help herself. For some reason, the situation just struck her as extremely hilarious that she began to giggle uncontrollably. “What an idiot! What an imbecile!” she chortled, pointing at Fried Chicken Wing Guy with her thumb whilst clutching at her stomach. “What a morooon!”
“Nooooo!” he went. “You shut up! You've made a fool of me for the last time, Mallet Girl. I was gonna take it easy on you and finish you off quickly with that move but seeing as how I can't do any more special attacks without my official ninja henchman gear -- patent pending -- I'm gonna have to settle this fight with basic henchman moves and you'll be oh-so-sorry cuz now you're going down hard.”
“Oh, bring it on!” Mallet Girl excitedly replied. She raised a clenched fist, challenging him to do just that. “I've tangled with tougher blokes than you. And that's way back in grade school. I'm not afraid of a little rough foreplay!”
“Grrrrr...wait.” Fried Chicken Wing Guy paused. He blinked. “What?”
“What?”
“Um...”
“Oh, never mind!” Mallet Girl exclaimed. With her trusty mallet clenched with both hands, she charged. “It's Mallet Time!”
Fists at the ready and poised to attack or defend, Fried Chicken Wing Guy responded in kind.
“Graaaaahhhhh!!!” he shouted.
“Yaaaaaahhhhhh!!!” yelled Mallet Girl.
And as the distance between the combatants shortened, a deep, thunderous voice suddenly boomed. “MALLET GIRL versus FRIED CHICKEN WING GUY – FIGHT!!!”
But it was all lost upon the two for so focused were they upon each other they heard not one word of it. They pounced upon each other as soon as they got within striking distance and proceeded to unleash one attack after another.
“Crescent Mallet Strike!” Mallet Girl hollered as she leapt up and struck Fried Chicken Wing Guy with a down mallet swing on her way down.
“Elite Henchman Salute!” cried Fried Chicken Wing Guy. He stepped back, saluted with his right hand, and then swiftly lunged forward for a karate chop to the side of Mallet Girl's neck.
“Tornado Smash!” Mallet Girl responded, spinning like a top for multiple hits with her mallet.
“Henchman Uppercut!” went Fried Chicken Wing Guy, the move basically a jab-jab-uppercut boxing combo.
“Babe Ruth Home Run Special!” Mallet Girl swung her mallet like a baseball bat.
“FPJ Fists of Flurry! Fried Chicken Wing Guy viciously clapped Mallet Girl on the ears then delivered a flurry of punches to her stomach, finishing the combination with another clap attack to her ears.
“Nutcracker--” Mallet Girl stopped in her tracks. Something had caught her attention. “Wait. What the heck is that?” she asked as she pointed at the space just above Fried Chicken Wing Guy.
“Huh?” He looked up. There, floating in mid-air, was long, red-outlined rectangle. “What the...!? What is that? Wait. Is that...? Hey, it is!” He looked at Mallet Girl. “It's a lifebar.”
Mallet Girl was perplexed. “A what?”
“A lifebar. You know, those things in arcade video games that tell you how much more damage your character can take before going down.”
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