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.
Showing posts with label gazpachooftheandes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gazpachooftheandes. Show all posts
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?
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.
Friday, September 25, 2020
PAGE 34 TO PAGE 36
Gazpacho guffawed in maniacal amusement and mirth. “You'll give me the money and like it! I expect you to smile and thank me you hand it over. Be grateful! I could have easily asked for twice or even thrice that amount. You'll give me the money or you'll never see your precious darling Camille again. Unspoiled at least! Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!”
“You fiend!” the man cried. “You're nothing but a heartless, depraved monster!”
And Gazpacho laughed some more. “My, such flattery pleases me but it will not get me to lower my price. Oh, and do not bother contacting the police or having them trace this number. They will only trace it to the 7-Ate-9 convenience store on Aphid Street and I am nowhere remotely near that location. So says I, Gazpacho of the Andes! Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!”
And so he laughed and laughed and laughed until he could laugh no more and then he slammed the phone back on the rotary dialer on the table beside him. Slowly, he turned around to regard his two captives with slate-like beady eyes. There in the far corner of the sparsely-furnished room, both gagged and bound, were a little blond girl in a horseback riding outfit and her pretty pink pony.
Gazpacho of the Andes was a Latino man of average height and built, in his late twenties and with hair that was an impressive voluminous coif supported by copious amounths of extra-strength glossy wax; it was nearly as third as tall as he was. His chin and jaw were quite large and prominent and his straight mustache, very long and pointy. He was wearing a plain, white, V-necked T-shirt, torn and faded jeans, and a dirty pair of tennis shoes, which he donned without socks. He had on a cape and what a cape it was! Luxurious red velvet it was, with gold trim, a tall collar the height of his head, and long, pointy, crooked shoulders that reached more than a foot above his ears.
Rubbing his hands together, he grinned wickedly at the hapless, little girl and her pony, both of whom could only stare back at him with wide-eyed terror. They were both thinking pretty much the same thing, “Oh, please! Oh, please! Don't molest me! I'm too cute to be molested!”
Gazpacho continued grinning and rubbing his hands together. Minutes passed. Still he continued grinning and rubbing his hands together. Many more minutes passd. He glanced at the black cat clock hanging above the door. A quarter past eleven, it said. He went back to his gloating, grinning wickedly and rubbing his hands together.
Finally, he declared, “Ah, noon at last! Excellent! I always do my molesting on an empty stomach. Food always taste sweeter after a good molestation.”
“Noooooooo!!!” the little girl and her pony thought in unison.
Suddenly, the ceiling collapsed, dust and debris flying everywhere, and into the room tumbled Mallet Girl and Fried Chicken Wing guy, the two locked in deadly combat, exchanging fists, elbows, and knees as they fell.
They were instantly on their feet, standing at opposite ends of the room with the astonished Gazpacho staring at them, unable to move an inch. He was so shocked at this sudden interruption of his lunchtime plans that he simply stood there, rooted in place, and watched in silence as the two combatants sized each other up and considered their next move.
Mallet Girl stared at her opponent. It was clear that he was already exhausted and injured to boot. His fried chicken wing suit was all torn and ripped in several places. Still both the man and his costume had fared quite well all things considered. This man, this Fried Chicken Wing guy was better than she had anticipated. He was definitely trained in the finer arts of hand-to-hand combat.
Not that she cared much for the martial arts disciplines, being self-taught herself. Still she couldn't help but be impressed by the man's prowess. He had a critical eye and decent reflexes. And a strong arm, too. And his face wasn't all that bad looking. No wonder he had his own super villain name and costume. No doubt he'd also had his own them music and even a sidekick or a henchman or two. Yeah. He was just the kind of guy she could fall for.
Mallet Girl sighed. If only he wasn't wearing such a silly get-up.
“Feh, what am I thinking!” she thought to herself then. “Focus, girl. Focus! Now's not the time for such silly fantasies. A good cup of coffee is at stake. He's good. Yeah, but I'm definitely better.” She wiped sweat and grime from her left cheek and a little blood from the corner of her lips with the back of her hand. “Heh. Heck yeah, I could take him. Just underestimated him a little, is all.”
Mallet Girl reckoned she could bring him down in five seconds flat. Less if she really put her hip into it. Yeah, she was just that good. She was enjoying the fight far too much to end it all too quickly though.
Still it had been quite the long morning and she badly needed a caffeine jolt, and sugar rush as well, to bring her back to her old perky self. Thus she decided to end the fight in thirty seconds instead of five, all in the name of fun and generosity.
She had lost her mallet on the rooftop so she drew another one from her back. “Alright, buster,” she said, “listen up. This is your last chance. I know you know something so you better fez up.”
“Hah!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy spat out vehemently. “I ain't telling you nothing! I'm taking all my secrets to the grave!”
“Oh, yeah?” Mallet Girl retorted. “We'll see about that! Better fez up already if you know what's good for you. I'm getting the location of that cafe out of you even if I have to beat it out of your brain. So make it easy on yourself and get with the talking! A girl's got a right to her coffee, you know.”
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he responded in turn. “Stop talking nonsense!”
“Whaa? Nonsense? You're the one who's making no sense whatsoever. I was just asking for directions. You're the one who suddenly started acting and screaming all crazy-like.”
“Hah! I'm on to you!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy smiled triumphantly, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You're just trying to confuse me, aren't you? You're messing with my mind! Well, I'm not falling for it, you hear? You, you, you sphinx you!”
Mallet Girl paused. “Sphinx?” An image of the Egyptian Sphinx but with her head instead and holding crossed mallets in its pause sprung to her mind amidst the sounds of a cricket chirping. A large bead of sweat formed on the side of her head. She was not amused. Not one bit.
“You fiend!” the man cried. “You're nothing but a heartless, depraved monster!”
And Gazpacho laughed some more. “My, such flattery pleases me but it will not get me to lower my price. Oh, and do not bother contacting the police or having them trace this number. They will only trace it to the 7-Ate-9 convenience store on Aphid Street and I am nowhere remotely near that location. So says I, Gazpacho of the Andes! Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!”
And so he laughed and laughed and laughed until he could laugh no more and then he slammed the phone back on the rotary dialer on the table beside him. Slowly, he turned around to regard his two captives with slate-like beady eyes. There in the far corner of the sparsely-furnished room, both gagged and bound, were a little blond girl in a horseback riding outfit and her pretty pink pony.
Gazpacho of the Andes was a Latino man of average height and built, in his late twenties and with hair that was an impressive voluminous coif supported by copious amounths of extra-strength glossy wax; it was nearly as third as tall as he was. His chin and jaw were quite large and prominent and his straight mustache, very long and pointy. He was wearing a plain, white, V-necked T-shirt, torn and faded jeans, and a dirty pair of tennis shoes, which he donned without socks. He had on a cape and what a cape it was! Luxurious red velvet it was, with gold trim, a tall collar the height of his head, and long, pointy, crooked shoulders that reached more than a foot above his ears.
Rubbing his hands together, he grinned wickedly at the hapless, little girl and her pony, both of whom could only stare back at him with wide-eyed terror. They were both thinking pretty much the same thing, “Oh, please! Oh, please! Don't molest me! I'm too cute to be molested!”
Gazpacho continued grinning and rubbing his hands together. Minutes passed. Still he continued grinning and rubbing his hands together. Many more minutes passd. He glanced at the black cat clock hanging above the door. A quarter past eleven, it said. He went back to his gloating, grinning wickedly and rubbing his hands together.
Finally, he declared, “Ah, noon at last! Excellent! I always do my molesting on an empty stomach. Food always taste sweeter after a good molestation.”
“Noooooooo!!!” the little girl and her pony thought in unison.
Suddenly, the ceiling collapsed, dust and debris flying everywhere, and into the room tumbled Mallet Girl and Fried Chicken Wing guy, the two locked in deadly combat, exchanging fists, elbows, and knees as they fell.
They were instantly on their feet, standing at opposite ends of the room with the astonished Gazpacho staring at them, unable to move an inch. He was so shocked at this sudden interruption of his lunchtime plans that he simply stood there, rooted in place, and watched in silence as the two combatants sized each other up and considered their next move.
Mallet Girl stared at her opponent. It was clear that he was already exhausted and injured to boot. His fried chicken wing suit was all torn and ripped in several places. Still both the man and his costume had fared quite well all things considered. This man, this Fried Chicken Wing guy was better than she had anticipated. He was definitely trained in the finer arts of hand-to-hand combat.
Not that she cared much for the martial arts disciplines, being self-taught herself. Still she couldn't help but be impressed by the man's prowess. He had a critical eye and decent reflexes. And a strong arm, too. And his face wasn't all that bad looking. No wonder he had his own super villain name and costume. No doubt he'd also had his own them music and even a sidekick or a henchman or two. Yeah. He was just the kind of guy she could fall for.
Mallet Girl sighed. If only he wasn't wearing such a silly get-up.
“Feh, what am I thinking!” she thought to herself then. “Focus, girl. Focus! Now's not the time for such silly fantasies. A good cup of coffee is at stake. He's good. Yeah, but I'm definitely better.” She wiped sweat and grime from her left cheek and a little blood from the corner of her lips with the back of her hand. “Heh. Heck yeah, I could take him. Just underestimated him a little, is all.”
Mallet Girl reckoned she could bring him down in five seconds flat. Less if she really put her hip into it. Yeah, she was just that good. She was enjoying the fight far too much to end it all too quickly though.
Still it had been quite the long morning and she badly needed a caffeine jolt, and sugar rush as well, to bring her back to her old perky self. Thus she decided to end the fight in thirty seconds instead of five, all in the name of fun and generosity.
She had lost her mallet on the rooftop so she drew another one from her back. “Alright, buster,” she said, “listen up. This is your last chance. I know you know something so you better fez up.”
“Hah!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy spat out vehemently. “I ain't telling you nothing! I'm taking all my secrets to the grave!”
“Oh, yeah?” Mallet Girl retorted. “We'll see about that! Better fez up already if you know what's good for you. I'm getting the location of that cafe out of you even if I have to beat it out of your brain. So make it easy on yourself and get with the talking! A girl's got a right to her coffee, you know.”
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he responded in turn. “Stop talking nonsense!”
“Whaa? Nonsense? You're the one who's making no sense whatsoever. I was just asking for directions. You're the one who suddenly started acting and screaming all crazy-like.”
“Hah! I'm on to you!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy smiled triumphantly, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You're just trying to confuse me, aren't you? You're messing with my mind! Well, I'm not falling for it, you hear? You, you, you sphinx you!”
Mallet Girl paused. “Sphinx?” An image of the Egyptian Sphinx but with her head instead and holding crossed mallets in its pause sprung to her mind amidst the sounds of a cricket chirping. A large bead of sweat formed on the side of her head. She was not amused. Not one bit.
Monday, August 31, 2020
PAGE 31 TO PAGE 33
“Oh, indeed it is!” the man replied enthusiastically. “The unique blend of herbs and spices and the meticulous attention and care given to the way it is cooked all combine together into a delicious medley of fried chicken and sauce that can only be described as a gastronomic roller coaster experience that your taste buds will sure to be thankful for.”
“Oh, my!”
“Why,” he added, “the Corporal himself came personally and personally endorsed the dish to restaurant patrons this very morning. The restaurant will be holding an event this evening to officially introduce the dish and all are invited to attend.”
The woman laughed. “I'll be sure to tell my husband then. If there's one thing that man really knows how to appreciate, it's a good chicken dish.”
And with that, the woman left. The man was set to hand out flyers again when Mallet Girl called out to him.
“Yo, Fried Chicken Wing Guy! There a place around here where a girl can get a good cup of joe?”
Thus he was dubbed and known henceforth and forever more as Fried Chicken Wing Guy.
But unbeknownst to the good citizens of downtown Axion Plus, he was in reality none other than Henchman#626! The ninth strongest member of Alpha Phi Omegatron Delta Force, the elite ninja army created by the super villainess mastermind Delicious Victoria Delight, Tofu Mistress of Mystery, to infiltrate fastfood restaurants throughout the world and replace all their meaty ingredients with tofu-based substitutes. Mu-ha-ha-ha!
Fried Chicken Wing Guy froze. He recognized the voice instantly. He could never forget that terrible voice. How could he? It sent an arctic chill of absolute horror up and down his spine. M-M-Mallet Girl? It couldn't be!
The Alpha Phi Omegatron Delta Force had tangled with Mallet Girl once before. With disastrous consequences. Half the army decimated and years of careful planning and preparation ruined and flushed down the crapper. What's worse, their beloved skull-shaped tofu factory was destroyed, lost to a giant sinkhole that Mallet Girl had inadvertently caused. That's what she claimed at least.
It was all an accident she said. It wasn't her fault. Who knew striking that massive pillar at the particular spot would cause it to fall through the floor and send it crashing down three levels into the basement, setting off a chain reaction of events that resulted in the formation of that massive sinkhole? Talk about shoddy workmanship.
None of them believed her, of course. This monster girl. This demon in girl's clothing.
Slowly, Fried Chicken Wing Guy turned, praying as he did to all the tofu gods, both real and imagined, that his ears had deceived him.
But they hadn't. It really was Mallet Girl!
Years of rigorous martial arts training and eleven and half weeks of danger assessment and workplace sensitivity seminars kicked in. Dropping the flyers, he leapt back and took a defensive combat stance, much to bewilderment of Mallet Girl.
“Whaaa...!?” she ejaculated.
“Mallet Girl!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy confronted her. “I don't know how you've found us out this time but I won't allow you to ruin our plans again!”
Mallet Girl was quite dumbfounded and she could do naught but stare back at him.
Understandably, the man's mind was racing. He had to do something. Fast. “Aaahhh, do something!” he implored himself. “Do we fight? Or flee? Think, man! Fight or flight? Fight or flight, Fried Chicken Wing Guy, I mean Henchman#626? Fight or flight?”
He considered the blank look Mallet Girl was giving him. It really didn't take him all that long to decide.
“Aw, crap!” he cried out loud. “Flight!”
And with that, poor Fried Chicken Wing Guy bolted. He fled as fast as his sinewy legs could take him, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“What the...?” Mallet Girl exclaimed. “Hey! Come back here! I don't know what's going on here but that sure looked mighty suspicious. Come back here and answer my question!”
She drew a mallet from the holster at her back and ran after the costumed man.
Alias Uno had been talking to a convenience store worker and, thus delayed, was just now arriving. He had missed everything that had just transpired and was completely surprised to see Mallet Girl chasing after a screaming Fried Chicken Wing Guy, her weapon drawn and poised to strike.
“Huh!? Mallet Girl!” he shouted. “Where the heck are you going? I thought we were getting lunch!”
But Mallet Girl paid him no heed and just kept on running.
He watched her disappear in the distance. “What the heck just happened?” he wondered out lout, scratching his head in consternation.
The bystanders around him could only shrug in apology. They may have witness what had happened but they were, all of them, pretty much in the same boat. They were just as confused as he was.
Meanwhile just a few blocks away, Gazpacho of the Andes was in his run-down apartment, watching the clouds lazily drift by in the bright, blue sky through the only window in the room. He was on the phone.
“You have twenty-four hours,” he was saying. I'll contact you again and tell you when and where to drop the money.”
“This is outrageous!” the man on the other end of line protested. “I can't possibly put together that much money in such a short time!”
“Give us back our baby!” a woman's voice could be heard weeping.
“Oh, my!”
“Why,” he added, “the Corporal himself came personally and personally endorsed the dish to restaurant patrons this very morning. The restaurant will be holding an event this evening to officially introduce the dish and all are invited to attend.”
The woman laughed. “I'll be sure to tell my husband then. If there's one thing that man really knows how to appreciate, it's a good chicken dish.”
And with that, the woman left. The man was set to hand out flyers again when Mallet Girl called out to him.
“Yo, Fried Chicken Wing Guy! There a place around here where a girl can get a good cup of joe?”
Thus he was dubbed and known henceforth and forever more as Fried Chicken Wing Guy.
But unbeknownst to the good citizens of downtown Axion Plus, he was in reality none other than Henchman#626! The ninth strongest member of Alpha Phi Omegatron Delta Force, the elite ninja army created by the super villainess mastermind Delicious Victoria Delight, Tofu Mistress of Mystery, to infiltrate fastfood restaurants throughout the world and replace all their meaty ingredients with tofu-based substitutes. Mu-ha-ha-ha!
Fried Chicken Wing Guy froze. He recognized the voice instantly. He could never forget that terrible voice. How could he? It sent an arctic chill of absolute horror up and down his spine. M-M-Mallet Girl? It couldn't be!
The Alpha Phi Omegatron Delta Force had tangled with Mallet Girl once before. With disastrous consequences. Half the army decimated and years of careful planning and preparation ruined and flushed down the crapper. What's worse, their beloved skull-shaped tofu factory was destroyed, lost to a giant sinkhole that Mallet Girl had inadvertently caused. That's what she claimed at least.
It was all an accident she said. It wasn't her fault. Who knew striking that massive pillar at the particular spot would cause it to fall through the floor and send it crashing down three levels into the basement, setting off a chain reaction of events that resulted in the formation of that massive sinkhole? Talk about shoddy workmanship.
None of them believed her, of course. This monster girl. This demon in girl's clothing.
Slowly, Fried Chicken Wing Guy turned, praying as he did to all the tofu gods, both real and imagined, that his ears had deceived him.
But they hadn't. It really was Mallet Girl!
Years of rigorous martial arts training and eleven and half weeks of danger assessment and workplace sensitivity seminars kicked in. Dropping the flyers, he leapt back and took a defensive combat stance, much to bewilderment of Mallet Girl.
“Whaaa...!?” she ejaculated.
“Mallet Girl!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy confronted her. “I don't know how you've found us out this time but I won't allow you to ruin our plans again!”
Mallet Girl was quite dumbfounded and she could do naught but stare back at him.
Understandably, the man's mind was racing. He had to do something. Fast. “Aaahhh, do something!” he implored himself. “Do we fight? Or flee? Think, man! Fight or flight? Fight or flight, Fried Chicken Wing Guy, I mean Henchman#626? Fight or flight?”
He considered the blank look Mallet Girl was giving him. It really didn't take him all that long to decide.
“Aw, crap!” he cried out loud. “Flight!”
And with that, poor Fried Chicken Wing Guy bolted. He fled as fast as his sinewy legs could take him, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“What the...?” Mallet Girl exclaimed. “Hey! Come back here! I don't know what's going on here but that sure looked mighty suspicious. Come back here and answer my question!”
She drew a mallet from the holster at her back and ran after the costumed man.
Alias Uno had been talking to a convenience store worker and, thus delayed, was just now arriving. He had missed everything that had just transpired and was completely surprised to see Mallet Girl chasing after a screaming Fried Chicken Wing Guy, her weapon drawn and poised to strike.
“Huh!? Mallet Girl!” he shouted. “Where the heck are you going? I thought we were getting lunch!”
But Mallet Girl paid him no heed and just kept on running.
He watched her disappear in the distance. “What the heck just happened?” he wondered out lout, scratching his head in consternation.
The bystanders around him could only shrug in apology. They may have witness what had happened but they were, all of them, pretty much in the same boat. They were just as confused as he was.
Meanwhile just a few blocks away, Gazpacho of the Andes was in his run-down apartment, watching the clouds lazily drift by in the bright, blue sky through the only window in the room. He was on the phone.
“You have twenty-four hours,” he was saying. I'll contact you again and tell you when and where to drop the money.”
“This is outrageous!” the man on the other end of line protested. “I can't possibly put together that much money in such a short time!”
“Give us back our baby!” a woman's voice could be heard weeping.
Tuesday, July 28, 2020
PAGE 25 TO PAGE 27
“Thank you, Jenna,” Chibi Mallet Girl said then. “I'm sure our viewers appreciate your sparing us some time from your busy schedule.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Jenna replied. “I'm getting overtime for this, right?”
Without batting an eye, Chibi Mallet Girl continued speaking. “And here we have Steven, Mallet Girl's go-to-guy for all her mallet needs. He's in charge of Mallet Girl's mallet warehouse and always seems to know what mallets Mallet Girl will be needing each day. He's a genius, they say, on of those idiotic servants, or something like that.”
The scene in the television screen then switched to the fruits and vegetable section of a supermarket. A short, pudgy man was standing in front of the vegetable bins, wearing a white apron and a rectangular bull cap with a scarf hanging from the back. He was holding a wooden mallet horizontally with both hands and was grinning from ear to ear as though something good was about to happen.
“Hey, Steven! What up?”
Suddenly, an old-fashioned alarm clock went off, filling the air with it's loud, obnoxious ringing.
“Whoops!” Chibi Mallet Girl cried. “Looks like that's all the time we have, folks!” She waved her hand goodbye. “Tune in again next time! Same mallet channel! Same mallet time!”
“Dashiiiiii!” Uber Chibi Mallet Girl screeched.
As everything in the screen began to fade away, a red, circular window appeared in the lower right corner. Alias Uno popped out of the window.
“Hey!” he protested. “I thought we were gonna talk about me next!”
“Sweetie-kins!!!” Chibi Mallet Girl screamed as she leaped and lunged towards the love of her life.
The old television set turned off and that was that.
Hello! It is I, the narrator! Yes! There is a narrator now and that is I. Things have become quite profitable around here lately and the higher ups have decided to jazz up the show with more pizzazz, more action, more special effects, and—ahem-ahem!--yours truly. Hee-hee! I am beside myself with glee. At long last, I am gainfully employed and in Mallet Girl's show at that! I am financially viable!
Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha! Never again will I have to face my colleagues in shame. Never again can those stuck-up snobs look down on me and snicker behind my back. They said I would never amount to anything. Well, look who's laughing now! Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ack! Cough! Cough! Cough! Uhurm...I mean, on with the show!
Mallet Girl, bounty hunter extraordinaire and one cute chick, is on the trail of Gazpacho of the Andes, the notorious molester of little girls and kidnapper of horses. Or is it the other way around? Mallet Girl could never remember.
Huh? Hey? What are you doing here? We're on the air for cryin' out loud! What's this? Aaahhh, no! My walking papers!? I'm fired? But, but, but I was just hired this morning! How can I be fired already? Nooooo! My plans! I had plans! I'll never be able to move out of my mom's basement at this rate!
Wait, who are you guys? Security? Who the heck called security? Aaahhh, no! Don't come any closer! I have a mike! Don't make me use this! Aaahhh, let go! Let go! Noooooooooo!!!
“So there's this guy, see,” Mallet girl was saying. “Pistachio or something. He's from the Andes, I think. Have you seen him around here? He's like a really bad dude. Wicked and perverted and all icky and stuff. He particularly likes to molest little girls and kidnap horses. Wait. Or was it the other way around? He likes to kidnap little girls and molest horses? Aaahhh, I keep forgetting! Wait, what am I doing? I have a picture! Duh!”
She lifted up her hand to show the photograph she had been holding. “Yeah, this guy! So have you seen this guy around here?”
She waited for an answer but there was none coming.
“Well?”
Still the she was answered with silence.
Mallet Girl frowned. “Oh, giving me the silent treatment, are you? Why, you! Ooh, I bet you're in cahoots with that guy! He's paid you off to keep your mouth shut. That's it, isn't it? Hah! You don't know who you're dealing with, buster. I have ways of making you talk.”
Slowly, she reached for one of the mallets hanging at her back.
Alias Uno sighed, resigned to spending yet another of those trying afternoons with Mallet Girl. He was really regretting coming in for work this morning. Call in sick, his gut had told him, but did he listen? No, of course not. He shook his head slowly and sighed again. “Mallet Girl,” he said.
Just like Mallet Girl, Alias Uno was garbed in his usual work clothes. He was dressed all in dark, charcoal grey from his turtleneck sweater with the extra-long collar to his cargo pants and his heavy, metal-clad, steel-toed leather boots. The black canvas belt with the velcro purses was still strapped across his chest and two similar belts were loosely hanging around his waist.
“Mallet Girl,” he said again.
“What?” Mallet Girl cried, frowning at him. “I'm trying to work here.”
“You're talking to a statue. That's the Jolly the Bug Honey Burger mascot. You were here when they unveiled it last month, remember?”
Mallet Girl paused. “Well...well, that's no excuse! I mean, talk about rude, man. I'm Mallet Girl. The Mallet Girl! When I ask a question, I expect to be answered!” She smacked the back of her right hand against her left palm to stress the point.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Jenna replied. “I'm getting overtime for this, right?”
Without batting an eye, Chibi Mallet Girl continued speaking. “And here we have Steven, Mallet Girl's go-to-guy for all her mallet needs. He's in charge of Mallet Girl's mallet warehouse and always seems to know what mallets Mallet Girl will be needing each day. He's a genius, they say, on of those idiotic servants, or something like that.”
The scene in the television screen then switched to the fruits and vegetable section of a supermarket. A short, pudgy man was standing in front of the vegetable bins, wearing a white apron and a rectangular bull cap with a scarf hanging from the back. He was holding a wooden mallet horizontally with both hands and was grinning from ear to ear as though something good was about to happen.
“Hey, Steven! What up?”
Suddenly, an old-fashioned alarm clock went off, filling the air with it's loud, obnoxious ringing.
“Whoops!” Chibi Mallet Girl cried. “Looks like that's all the time we have, folks!” She waved her hand goodbye. “Tune in again next time! Same mallet channel! Same mallet time!”
“Dashiiiiii!” Uber Chibi Mallet Girl screeched.
As everything in the screen began to fade away, a red, circular window appeared in the lower right corner. Alias Uno popped out of the window.
“Hey!” he protested. “I thought we were gonna talk about me next!”
“Sweetie-kins!!!” Chibi Mallet Girl screamed as she leaped and lunged towards the love of her life.
The old television set turned off and that was that.
CHAPTER TWO
Hello! It is I, the narrator! Yes! There is a narrator now and that is I. Things have become quite profitable around here lately and the higher ups have decided to jazz up the show with more pizzazz, more action, more special effects, and—ahem-ahem!--yours truly. Hee-hee! I am beside myself with glee. At long last, I am gainfully employed and in Mallet Girl's show at that! I am financially viable!
Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha! Never again will I have to face my colleagues in shame. Never again can those stuck-up snobs look down on me and snicker behind my back. They said I would never amount to anything. Well, look who's laughing now! Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ack! Cough! Cough! Cough! Uhurm...I mean, on with the show!
Mallet Girl, bounty hunter extraordinaire and one cute chick, is on the trail of Gazpacho of the Andes, the notorious molester of little girls and kidnapper of horses. Or is it the other way around? Mallet Girl could never remember.
Huh? Hey? What are you doing here? We're on the air for cryin' out loud! What's this? Aaahhh, no! My walking papers!? I'm fired? But, but, but I was just hired this morning! How can I be fired already? Nooooo! My plans! I had plans! I'll never be able to move out of my mom's basement at this rate!
Wait, who are you guys? Security? Who the heck called security? Aaahhh, no! Don't come any closer! I have a mike! Don't make me use this! Aaahhh, let go! Let go! Noooooooooo!!!
“So there's this guy, see,” Mallet girl was saying. “Pistachio or something. He's from the Andes, I think. Have you seen him around here? He's like a really bad dude. Wicked and perverted and all icky and stuff. He particularly likes to molest little girls and kidnap horses. Wait. Or was it the other way around? He likes to kidnap little girls and molest horses? Aaahhh, I keep forgetting! Wait, what am I doing? I have a picture! Duh!”
She lifted up her hand to show the photograph she had been holding. “Yeah, this guy! So have you seen this guy around here?”
She waited for an answer but there was none coming.
“Well?”
Still the she was answered with silence.
Mallet Girl frowned. “Oh, giving me the silent treatment, are you? Why, you! Ooh, I bet you're in cahoots with that guy! He's paid you off to keep your mouth shut. That's it, isn't it? Hah! You don't know who you're dealing with, buster. I have ways of making you talk.”
Slowly, she reached for one of the mallets hanging at her back.
Alias Uno sighed, resigned to spending yet another of those trying afternoons with Mallet Girl. He was really regretting coming in for work this morning. Call in sick, his gut had told him, but did he listen? No, of course not. He shook his head slowly and sighed again. “Mallet Girl,” he said.
Just like Mallet Girl, Alias Uno was garbed in his usual work clothes. He was dressed all in dark, charcoal grey from his turtleneck sweater with the extra-long collar to his cargo pants and his heavy, metal-clad, steel-toed leather boots. The black canvas belt with the velcro purses was still strapped across his chest and two similar belts were loosely hanging around his waist.
“Mallet Girl,” he said again.
“What?” Mallet Girl cried, frowning at him. “I'm trying to work here.”
“You're talking to a statue. That's the Jolly the Bug Honey Burger mascot. You were here when they unveiled it last month, remember?”
Mallet Girl paused. “Well...well, that's no excuse! I mean, talk about rude, man. I'm Mallet Girl. The Mallet Girl! When I ask a question, I expect to be answered!” She smacked the back of her right hand against her left palm to stress the point.
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