Chapter One: Big Bob’s Booby Hatch

The Camaro, with its convertible top down, sped down the country lane with four kids in it. All of them were out of high school, none of them in college, and none of them old enough to legally drink alcohol, but when has that stopped anyone before?

Blaine and Vance sat in the front seat, Vance was driving. Bunny and Amber, their girlfriends, sat in the back seat, and they weren’t having any fun. Partly because they weren’t having any alcohol.

The guys were typical preppy late teens, used to having their way, plenty of dad’s money to throw around and the desires that needed some of that money to get them out of trouble. Vance’s sandy blonde hair was blowing in the wind as they raced down the dark, deserted road. Blaine’s dark hair was cut too short, and had too much gel in it, to be moved by anything less than gale-force winds.

“I’m bored, Vance,” Amber whined.

The girls were both ex-cheerleaders, Bunny was the captain of the squad three years in a row in high school, with hopes of getting into a college with an award-winning squad, hopefully somewhere near where Blaine and Vance were attending.

Bunny’s long, red curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of her face, but the wind tousled Amber’s hair because she forgot Vance liked driving with the top down. All the time. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of winter, Vance had the top down so everyone could see him.

“Oh-ho-HO!” Vance laughed. “Don’t you worry none, Amber. I got something planned.” He paused meaningfully and grinned at Blaine. “Something sca-a-a-a-ary.”

“Aw, dude,” said Blaine. “I was hoping for something SEXY for the girls to do.”

“Don’t worry, Blaine. What I got planned is scary AND sexy.”

A sudden light dawned in Blaine’s eyes as he realized what road they were on, where they were headed. He decided to play along. “Is this a place we’re going that’s sexy AND scary? Is that possible?”

“It is,” Vance laughed. “As long as you have enough MONEY.”

“But,” Blaine continued, still playing along, “where can we find someplace sexy AND scary?”

Bunny was getting upset at this point. She didn’t like being dumb, or seeming to be dumb. She WASN’T dumb, but she sure felt like it at times, especially when Vance and Blaine got one of their “great ideas.”

“Yes,” Bunny said, a touch of scorn in her voice, “pray tell. Where can we find someplace sexy AND scary?”

Vance and Blaine laughed as Blaine turned and gave his “boy, you sure are dumb” look to Bunny, which irritated her even more. “Why, the old haunted strip club, of course!”

“Oh, great,” Amber groaned.

Bunny sat back with a sigh. “Just be glad we aren’t cow tipping again, Amber.”

The guys attempted a guffaw but sounded more like cats snorting nasal spray as the girls sulked in the backseat, the east Texas countryside rolling past the car.

Bunny leaned in to whisper to Amber. “Maybe if we just dance for them a little, grind our crotches on their laps, even pop out a tit, we won’t have to do this again. Otherwise we’ll be out here every week until we DO dance and eventually have to put out for them.”

* * *

The movie was letting out, and four young people, paired into two couples, broke off from the crowd to head to a very expensive SUV. It was especially expensive if you were about 19-years-old. But hey, that’s what rich parents were for, right? One of the couples, Sunny and Lamont, were very much in love. The other couple, Danforth and Tommy, wasn’t really a couple, but a pair of teenagers who knew each other.

Danforth, a young up-and-comer for his dad’s law firm, and a rich, snobby little bastard to boot, was very much in love with Tommy. Tommy, by the way, was a girl. Her real name was Tomorrow Forever Smith, but her parents (former hippies, could you tell?) wanted her to have a unique first and middle name since her last name was so common. She went by Tommy for a couple of reasons. The main one, of course, was so people wouldn’t call her “Tomorrow” and start singing that God-awful song from Annie at her all the time. The other reason was that she still was a tomboy. At 19 years old, she still HATED acting “like a girl.”

But Danforth didn’t care. He was named after a former Vice President, after all, and even though he had all this money, he couldn’t figure out why Tommy didn’t like him.

Sunny and Lamont were normal kids. And even though Tommy’s family didn’t have as much money as the other three kids’ families, Tommy and Sunny grew up together and still enjoyed hanging out on occasion. But Lamont’s bestest buddy in the whole world was Danforth. Secretly Lamont didn’t really like Danforth, but he really liked the fact that Danforth’s dad was a very prestigious founding partner in a very prestigious senior law firm. And Lamont wanted to be a prestigious JUNIOR partner before he was 25, and he saw being friends with Danforth as the way to get it.

Lamont stopped at his SUV and turned around before unlocking the doors. “Ok, so now what?”

Sunny piped up with a great suggestion. Well, not for Tommy, but to her it was still a great suggestion. “My parents are on a cycling tour of Italy for the month, we would have the whole house to ourselves. AND the hot tub!”

“I don’t know about that. I got a great book at home I’m trying to finish,” Tommy said.

Danforth stepped forward and put his arm around her. “Aw, come on, Tommy. Why not? It would give us a GREAT chance to get to know each other.”

Sunny could see the “I’m going to kill that dirty bitch” look in Tommy’s eyes and pulled her away from the guys before she did anything. “Tommy, you HAVE to come home with me. There is NO WAY I’m going to go home with just Lamont AND Danforth. You remember what happened the one and only time we tried that, right?”

Tommy’s look said it all. She knew what would be in store for her friend if she didn’t go along. “The Rubber Chicken Incident,” she said quietly.

“That’s right, the Rubber Chicken Incident. So. You and Danforth don’t have to do anything to each other. Why not play a game? We got Scrabble, Monopoly, Sorry. Better yet, play Monopoly, and let him win. That game is right up his alley.”

By Tommy’s look, she could see that Tommy would go along.

“All right,” Tommy said, resigned to the fact of more time spent in Danforth’s close and personal company. “But the first time his lips touch me… ANYWHERE… He’ll wake up in the hospital with his mouth wrapped around his dick. And I don’t care which part I have to remove to make that happen.”

It didn’t matter to Sunny what Tommy did to Danforth, she was happy to be able to spend more time with her friend, and later, with her boyfriend. “Good. I’ll help you do it if it comes to that,” she said, and she actually might have meant it.

* * *

The country road was smooth and fairly straight. Lamont’s SUV (Tommy’s mom called it an “SUG” which stood for “Sucks Up Gas) handled the road like a dream. Tommy loved the vehicle, even though her mother would faint dead away at the thought of her daughter owning one of those “environment killers.”

“Aw, come on, Tommy,” Danforth whined. “Why not?”

“Because I find you disgusting, Danforth,” Tommy sneered. “Your morals are so low, even the devil himself would say something.”

Sunny had finally had enough. She wanted Tommy to keep Danforth from trying to double-team her with Lamont, but not at the expense of Tommy’s sanity. She spun around in the seat to look Danforth in the eye. “Jeez, Danforth. When are you going to get it through your head that Tommy doesn’t like you in that way?”

“Whaaaaaaaat?” Danforth dragged out the word, almost sounding like a cat caught in a foghorn. “Tommy? Is this TRUUUUUE?”

“Duh! What clues didn’t sink in past all that mousse and hair gel? The constant rejection of your advances or the constant rejection of your advances?”

“Yeah, Danforth,” Sunny said as she righted herself in her seat. “Give it up!” She turned to Lamont. “Maybe we should drop Danforth off at home.”

“Whaaaat?” Lamont said in a passing imitation of Danforth. “But… But…” he didn’t know how to tell Sunny that he wanted to do what he could for Danforth so he could get in good with Danforth’s dad.

Lamont was still sputtering, trying to explain to Sunny when Sunny screamed, “LOOK OUT!”

Lamont, without thinking, slammed on the brakes, almost spun out his SUV as he narrowly missed hitting a zombie-like Blaine staggering down the road.

Once the SUV stopped and the occupants all caught their breath, Sunny was the first to speak. “That was Blaine.”

Tommy was first out of the car like a shot, only because Lamont had to put the car in “park.” Tommy generally liked Blaine, but not his favorite buddy Vance, nor his “I wish I wasn’t as dumb as I sound” girlfriend Bunny. So Tommy went to check on him as quickly as she could.

Lamont had a different reason. Blaine’s dad was also a very prestigious founding partner in the same very prestigious law firm that Danforth’s dad was a very prestigious founding partner. In fact, Blaine’s dad was THE most senior founding partner. So, of course, Lamont was out the SUV (“SUG”) like a shot.

As they neared Blaine, they could hear him muttering something over and over again, like a mantra for a cafeteria. “Spork… spork… spork… spork…”

Tommy grabbed Blaine’s shoulders and shook him, trying to get him to snap out of his stupor. “Blaine. Blaine!” She hauled back and slapped him across the face.

It worked.

“Oh, hey guys. What’s up?” Blaine said, apparently unaware of where he was or what he’d been doing.

Sunny and Danforth came up to the others as Blaine looked at all their worried faces. “Something wrong? What’s going on?”

“Dude, where’s Bunny? And Vance and Amber?” Lamont asked.

Blaine’s eyes rolled up, his breath caught in his throat and stumbled against Lamont as he suddenly remembered the last half hour. “Oh my god! Oh my GOD! Ohmigodohmigodohmigod…” He started chanting again.

“It’s ok, I got this,” Tommy said as she grabbed his shoulders again and slapped him hard across the cheek.

Blaine instantly came out of it, but this time, he still looked worried. “Thanks,” he said sheepishly to Tommy.

“So what happened?” Lamont prompted.

“Well,” Blaine began, “me, Vance and the girls decided to go up to the old haunted strip club, maybe see if the girls were up for a little dancing, maybe a little stripping.”

Lamont grinned at the thought of Sunny stripping for him. As well as Amber and Bunny. He thought he’d take a shot at either of them, given the opportunity. “Heh. Good idea.”

Sunny slapped him on the arm, a glare in her eye. “No it isn’t.”

Blaine, although welcoming the small interruption, resignedly continued on with his tale of horror. “So anyway, we went to the strip club and got inside. The girls got up on the stage and started dancing, when all of a sudden, these strippers came out with these little weird things all over them that looked like a spoon, but with those pointy things like a fork.”

Danforth, his brain churning so much it looked like it hurt, uncertainly ventured, “Sporks?”

Tommy ignored him and pressured Blaine for more info. “So then what happened?”

Blaine’s face showed the horror of his experience as he continued to relate his tale. He nearly fainted as he said, “Oh god, they captured us.”

The foursome from the SUV gathered closer, eyes wide, anticipation on the edge of their tongues as they asked, “And then?”

“They tied us up.”

“And then?”

“They took us down to the dungeon.”

“And then?”

“They got everything ready for a sacrifice.”

“And then?”

“I managed to break free of the strippers holding me and I escaped.”

“Did you cop a feel?” Lamont asked.

Blaine, grinning, forgot the horror and high-fived Lamont. “Totally, dude.” They laughed.

Sunny broke out of the horror-story-induced trance first and asked, “You left your friends there to be sacrificed?!”

Tommy’s resolve firmed at the notion of her friends (well, well-known acquaintances, at least) in trouble. She always fancied herself as an adventurer from old pulp serials: Modesty Blaise, Margot Lane, Dale Arden. Sometimes even Daphne or Velma from Scooby-Doo. “Let’s go rescue them.”

The others’ jaws all dropped, making them look like fish as they turned to Tommy. None of them ever thought of Tomorrow Forever Smith as the pulp hero type. “What?!” they exclaimed.

“They’re your friends, too. What should we do? Wait for Sheriff Bob?” Tommy’s scorn for the local law enforcement was evident in her tone. She never really had any respect for Sheriff Bob. He has always seemed too Barney Fife-ish for her. But less intelligent. Then there was that whole shady side of him she thought she saw at times, but everyone said her imagination was running away with her. What else could one expect from “Tomorrow Forever Smith”?

“Waiting for Sheriff Bob sounds like a good idea,” Lamont said.

“I’ll drink to that,” Blaine agreed.

“Sure. Sheriff Bob can get it done,” Danforth said.

“You’re right. Let’s go,” said Sunny.

“What?!” the guys exclaimed.

“Oh come off it, Lamont. They’re YOUR friends, too, just like Tommy said,” Sunny explained. “Who knows what could happen to them in the time it takes Sheriff Bob to arrive. Besides, if you don’t take Tommy and I there now, you won’t get laid for… a year.”

“A YEAR?!” Lamont couldn’t believe his ears.

“A year!”

Lamont knew this look in Sunny’s eye. She wasn’t going to budge, and if she said a year, she meant a year. Just like the time she wanted him to get his dog fixed so it would stop humping her dad’s leg every time he wore shorts. Lamont assured her that getting the dog fixed wouldn’t necessarily stop it.

Three months of blue balls later, Lamont’s dog was unable to have puppies, but Sunny never lost her resolve.

Lamont sighed and headed back for his SUV (“SUG”), resigned to his fate. The others followed.

* * *

Big Bob’s Booby Hatch had been closed down for about three years. It stood outside the city limits because that was the only way it could have been opened, local ordinances prohibiting nudity in public businesses inside the city limits.

As strip clubs go, it had been nice. As businesses go, it had worked. To a point. As an empty building with a reputation of being haunted and attracting all sorts of teenagers, it was a phenomenal success.

One major drawback to the strip club as a thriving business was the gravel parking lot. As a haunted strip club to attract teenagers, the gravel parking lot was perfect, yet another diversion for the teenagers who didn’t like the strip club, but enjoyed doing donuts in the loose gravel, so far from the prying eyes of parents of all kinds in town.

Doing donuts in the parking lot was the last thing on Lamont’s mind as he drove into the lot in his SUV.

“SUG” Tommy couldn’t help thinking yet again; Tommy always heard her mother’s voice in her head during times of stress. “All right. Will do, Sheriff Bob,” Tommy was saying into her cell phone as she rolled her eyes.

Lamont stopped the car and turned off the engine. “All right, everybody out of the pool,” he said.

The kids all climbed out of the car and stood around not really sure what to do next. Tommy hung up her cell phone and turned to the other kids. “Sheriff Bob says we should stay right here and wait for him. And…” her voice dropped a couple of octaves in a pretty fair imitation of the local lawman, “Above all else, don’t go near the building. It’s conDEMNED!”

Sunny, that gleam still in her eye, said, “Okay. Let’s go.”

The kids all grouped together, and even though Sunny and Tommy were both feeling brave, the thought of Satanic strippers still unnerved them.

The front door creaked open as they slowly edged it open.

“Ummmmmmmmmmmm, guys,” Blaine said, the edge of fear creeping back into his voice. “I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I’m not sure I like this.”

“Relax, Blaine,” Tommy said. “Here, take my hand.” She grabbed Blaine’s hand and pulled him after her into the club. Danforth saw this and suddenly got an idea.

“T-T-T-T-T-T-Tommy!” he practically screamed. “I-I-I-I’m s-s-s-s-scared, t-t-t-t-too! Hold my hand!”

Tommy looked at him with scorn. “Hold your own hand, Danforth. I’ve got Blaine’s.”

Danforth fumed a little as he followed everyone inside.

The door closed eerily silent behind them.

“Hey,” Tommy said, noticing the closing door. “Why is it the door creaks like a rusty coffin when it opens, but is quiet as the grave when it closes?”

“D-d-d-did you have to mention ‘coffin’ and ‘grave’?” Blaine asked.

In the distance someone screamed, causing them all to jump nearly out of their skin. Sunny stopped them all from advancing further into the den of Satanic girls who disrobe for money and said, “Okay, I think we’re in over our heads. Maybe we SHOULD wait for Sheriff Bob.”

Before Tommy could contradict her, the sound of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle pulling up to a stop in the gravel out front made her say, “Well, I guess we don’t have to wait. Sounds like he’s here.”

As the sound of heavy boots approached the door to the club, Sunny realized, “But… Sheriff Bob doesn’t OWN a motorcycle.”

Tommy looked to the door, fear and apprehension dawning in her eyes. “Oh shit.”

Blaine’s grip tightened to the point of breaking Tommy’s fingers as he began to hyperventilate, but Tommy was so scared herself she didn’t notice as the footsteps grew closer…. And heavier… And closer… And heavier… Until…

The door was suddenly kicked in and there stood a six-foot-three, muscular biker-looking bald man. His jaw sported a beard, his left ear a hoop earring and cuff connected by a chain. He was wearing a black leather vest, no shirt, black leather pants and black leather boots. In his right hand was a big gun that looked like it was out of some science fiction movie, but still appeared very, very dangerous, as did the man wielding it. When he spoke, the timbre of his voice sent chills up Tommy’s spine, but what he said only confused her.

“All right,” he said, waving the big gun from one teenager to the next. “Which one of you is Frank?”

“Frank?” they said in unison.

“Yeah, Frank.” When no one responded, he muttered, “Damn it,” fished a piece of paper out of his pocket, looked at it and said, “This IS 1313 Stripper Lane, right?” No response. “And none of you is named Frank?”

The kids all shook their heads in unison. No Frank here.

“Okay. Any of you kids seen a guy about yay tall,” he held his hand about five and a half feet from the ground, “with pasty white skin, red hair, wears a black suit with a red bowtie? No?”

The kids shook their heads again.

The biker curled his lip and sneered, “Thanks for the help.”

As he brushed past Tommy, she stopped him. “Hey, mister. We’re looking for our friends. Maybe we could help you.”

He looked Tommy in the eye and said, “Listen, girlie, I ain’t got time to baby-sit ya all. Why don’t you go back to the clubhouse and wait for Spanky and the gang. I got work to do.”

“I’ll go,” Danforth volunteered, trying to look better in Tommy’s eyes.

It didn’t work.

“Not NOW, Danforth!” she said.

That name caught the biker’s attention. “Danforth?! Your name is DANFORTH?! Get the fuck outta here! Did your parents not like you?”

“I’ll have you know that I was named after a Vice President,” Danforth said, puffing up at his own sense of self-importance.

“Who?” the man asked, “Danforth QUAYLE? You gotta be shitting me. Get outta my face, dork.”

“Uh oh,” the other kids said. They knew how Danforth REALLY didn’t like be dismissed. In Danforth’s world, HE did the dismissing.

“Wh-wh-what did you say your name was?” he sputtered, so angry he couldn’t see straight, let alone talk. “My father’s a lawyer! I’ll have you brought up on CHARGES!”

The big man took three very quick steps across the room to snatch Danforth by the throat.

“Are you threatening me, punk? Listen, kid. I’ve got a very important and dangerous job to do here. I don’t need some little muck-a-mucks mucking it up for me and getting in the way. You little rich bitches with your self-importance, thinking Daddy is gonna bail you out just because he has money really get on my last nerve. I got a good mind to show you just how much that pisses me off by ripping off your head and shitting in the hole. You look like you could use a refill.”

He released Danforth and stepped back.

Tommy did her best not to laugh, she really did, but it was just sooooo funny seeing Danforth put in his place.

“I was captured by strippers,” Blaine blurted out suddenly.

The biker turned a strange eye to Blaine, looking him up and down. “You were captured by… strippers.”

“Uh huh.”

“As in more than one.”

“Uh huh.”

The man thought for a moment.

Tommy took this as an opportunity to try and work her way closer to him. Wow did he make her melt. “You see, mister? We could help watch your back.”

“Forget all that ‘mister’ crap. Call me Truck.”

Tommy smiled. “Ok… Truck.”

Truck thought for a moment again and said, “All right. Follow me.”

The group followed him down a hall, looking for a staircase to the lower levels. Truck grabbed Blaine by the arm as they walked and said, “How do we get downstairs, kid? Apparently you been in here before.”

“I-I-I-I don’t remember.”

“Great,” Truck rolled his eyes as he pushed Blaine away, then turned to Tommy. “What was your name? Don’t think I caught it.”

Tommy grinned. “That’s ‘cause I didn’t throw it.”

Truck gave her a lopsided grin. “Heh. Cute.”

Tommy grinned back. “Thanks. My name’s Tommy.” They shook hands. Under her breath, Tommy added, “And you’re cute, too.”

Truck didn’t catch that last part, even though he wasn’t supposed to and knew it, he asked anyway. “Sorry. What was that?”

Tommy, a little embarrassed, said, “Oh, nothing.”

Danforth, seeing a threat to his non-existent claim to Tommy’s heart, quickly ran in front of Truck and stopped, his hand stuck out in front of him. “And I’m Danforth Reginald Quentin Marbury the Four…”

Truck stopped, so he didn’t run over Danforth, but when he realized what the kid was up to, he interrupted him with a very dry, very droll, “Yeah. We’ve met,” and walked right past him.

Once again, Tommy tried not to laugh, really she did, but she couldn’t help it when a little giggle slipped out.

Her giggle, and then Danforth’s fuming were instantly cut off when they heard a horrible scream rip through the building. Blaine recognized the voice instantly, though why he recognized his girlfriend’s scream of terror was beyond everyone. “Bunny!” he screeched.

Truck, preparing for action, ordered, “Stay here!” and ran off towards the sound.

Once he was gone, Tommy sighed a deep sigh. Danforth couldn’t help but notice.

“What was THAT for?” he demanded.

“What was what for?” Tommy said, not realizing she had sighed so loudly.

“That deep, contented sigh.”

“Oh, Jesus, Danforth, just get over it! I don’t like you and I never will!”

“Whaaaaaaaaat?!” he said in that weird cat caught in a foghorn voice he does when totally taken by surprise. “I just thought you were playing hard to get!”

“I was playing ‘Never Gonna Get!’ It ain’t happening!”

Sunny, glad that it was finally out in the open, looked down the hallway where Truck had disappeared. “I sure hope that Truck guy is all right.”

* * *

All strip clubs have dressing rooms for their dancers. Some people call them undressing rooms, but the stage could be considered that, so it’s not quite so accurate. Some strip clubs have basements for their dressing rooms to keep peeping toms eyes from peeping in.

However, no other strip club (in the United States) had ever had the lower dressing rooms turned into actual working dungeons. But to be fair, this particular strip club, formerly known as Big Bob’s Booby Hatch, was no longer an actual, functioning strip club.

The dungeon, though, WAS a fully functioning and operational dungeon, much to Bunny’s dismay. She was in the middle of being questioned and mildly tortured when she let out the scream that sent Truck running from his new companions.

“NOOOOO! NEVEEER!” she wailed. Her wrists and ankles were shackled to the wall behind her as a short man stared her in the eye.

The short man, known on this day as Speedy, was obviously, short, (who never went by the name Frank, by the way) with long dark hair that was greasy, even after he washed it. His pimply face was scarred by old acne, but that didn’t stop him from terrorizing Bunny. In fact, due to her high standards of aesthetics, it made the torture all the easier for Speedy.

“Yes!” Speedy demanded. “You MUST!”

“No! I’ll never go to the senior prom with you!”

“Not even if I do THIS?” he said as he picked up her purse from the floor and started to rummage through it.

“Hey!” Bunny said, fear gone, indignation on her face. “That’s MY purse!”

Speedy found exactly what he was looking for in Bunny’s purse, a wicked grin coming to his hideous face.

“Noooo,” Bunny said quietly.

“Yessss,” Speedy hissed. “THIS is something you are caring about! You will be going to the prom with me or else…” He squeezed the squeaky frog toy in his hand.

“Not Squeaky!” The fear left her eyes and a murderous HATRED took its rightful place. “You bastard, give him back!”

“No! You are not going with me to the prom!” Speedy crossed his arms and squeaked the toy.

Bunny was still pissed, not daunted in the least when she said, “You’ve got all these strippers around here. Why not take one of them?”

“Heh heh heh, ‘cause they’re MINE! ALL MINE! HA HA HA!” said a strange little creature sitting on the table behind Speedy. It was brownish in color and was shaped like a spork with the middle tine broken off, so that it had two horns.

Speedy’s retort was on the tip of his tongue when he suddenly felt the muzzle of a very large gun – that looked like it was from a science fiction movie and very dangerous – was pressed against the back of his head. Instead of his witty retort, he said, “Gulp!”

“Hiya, Speedy!” Truck said with a grin. “Where’s your partner, huh? Where’s Frank?”

“You will not be believing me if I am telling you so…” he ended the sentence with a rather large raspberry (also known as a Bronx cheer on smaller planets in the 34th Galaxy).

“Hey, mister, thank god,” Bunny breathed.

“Hang on, girlie,” Truck said. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”

“But why did you come here if not to rescue ME?” she whined.

“Hold your britches, girlie! Jeez! Interrogate the bad guy first, then on with the rescuing! The longer you keep arguing the point, the longer it’ll take to get to the rescuing!”

Bunny was in a huff. She couldn’t believe it! A man, an ATTRACTIVE man too, by the way, who didn’t fall all over himself to do what he could for her! If only she had her mirror out of her purse, she could check to make sure all her make-up and hair were in place. “What ever happened to ladies first?”

Truck turned to her sharply and said, “I have yet to meet a lady worthy of it.” A faraway look came into his eyes. “Except Barbara Bush. Huh.” He shook off the feeling and pressed his gun even harder against Speedy’s head. “But that’s beside the point! Where is he?!”

Speedy could see the murderous look in Truck’s eye. It made him swallow hard again. “I am telling you, I am not knowing! I am only be looking for a date to the prom for seniors!”

“With all these strippers around here?” Truck asked. “Why not take one of them?”

“Because they’re mine! ALL MINE!” said the Satanic Spork.

“What in the hey-all is THAT?” Truck asked.

“Come on, boys! He’s trying to take our girls!” screamed the spork.

“Oh shit,” muttered Truck.

“Uh oh, shit,” muttered Speedy.

Bunny just screamed as THOUSANDS of Satanic Sporks came flying out of the next room!

* * *

As Truck fled from a mass of flying Satanic Sporks, Tommy was busy yelling at Danforth. “Danforth, when are you going to get it through that thick mass of crap you call hair gel and into that other thick mass of crap you call a brain that I just do NOT like you! In any way, shape or form!” Tommy said with much fervor.

By the look on his face, something akin to a dog with his head cocked to the side and his ears up because he can’t figure out the strange words coming out of his owner’s mouth, Danforth showed that he just didn’t get it. “What do you mean, Tommy?”

Before Tommy could answer, the sound of pounding feet, running fast, was coming up the hallway. The feet belonged to Truck as he was running from the Sporks.

“Run!” he yelled. “Get the hell outta here!”

Tommy, not quite understanding, said, “Truck… wha--?”

“I said, RUN!” he commanded, forcing the kids to obey. He paused to turn and blast a couple of the sporks out of the air with his Angelrunner AR-17 heavy pulse rifle, complete with laser sight and a compass on the stock; top of the line equipment for an Inter-dimensional Bounty Hunter. The Guild Local 137 spared no expense on their bounty hunters. They were the best of the best, the elite of the elite, the top… Well, you get the idea.

The kids, seeing the flying, demonic Sporks coming at them by the truckload (no pun intended), turned tail and ran. Hard. The sound of demonically shaped sporks chanting “Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!” behind them gave them reason to run as fast as they could.

They ran around hallways, and dressing rooms and offices until they got to the main room of the club. Then they ran past the stage with the stripper poles and out the door.

As Truck neared this same door, he pulled a portable force field generator out of his pocket, activated it, and dropped it at the front door of the strip club. It activated, creating a bluish screen of energy which filled the doorway, and kept the Sporks from coming out.

Truck and the kids slowed down and finally stopped near Lamont’s SUV (“SUG,” Tommy thought, and then apologized to herself for doing it again). Everyone was having a hard time breathing, not really used to all the running.

“What… huh huh…” Danforth began, “… in the hell… was all THAT?”

“That was a bunch of those Satanic Sporks this kid saw earlier,” Truck explained. “I only saw a girl chained to the wall. Tall redhead…”

“Bunny!” Blaine exclaimed. “Did you save her?”

Truck gave him an odd look. “Do you see anyone with me?” He paused to catch his breath, looking back to his force field, seeing that it was still holding.

“What’s that sticking out of your back?” Tommy asked.

“Huh?” Truck said. He reached around and pulled one of the Sporks out if his shoulder blade. “Ouch,” he said as it pulled a little flesh off with it. It chewed the tasty morsel and swallowed. “It looks like a spork missing the middle tine.”

“Heh heh! Gimme more blood!” screamed the Satanic Spork in a tiny demonic voice. “I want mooooore!”

Truck dropped the Spork on the ground and raised his boot. “No! No! NOOOOO! ULGHP!” said the Spork as Truck stomped it into oblivion.

Blaine, upon seeing the Spork, started to panic. “Oh my god! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” Tommy slapped him.

Blaine looked at Tommy and grinned sheepishly. “Thanks.”

“It’s time I called in some back-up,” Truck said. “There’s just too many of those things to watch in there.”

Lamont and Sunny were holding each other close, fear of loss evident in their attitude towards each other. “I never want to lose you,” Lamont said tenderly.

“Nor I, you,” Sunny reiterated. “I don’t know what I’d do without – AAH!” She was interrupted in her endearing moment by a squad car speeding into the parking lot, spraying gravel everywhere. Sunny looked around sheepishly, but noticed no one was paying them any attention.

“Oh, good,” Blaine said, utterly relieved at the sight of the Sheriff. “Sheriff Bob is here.”

As Sheriff Bob unfolded his bulk out of the driver’s seat – he wasn’t fat, just big and solid – Truck noticed something familiar about him. He pulled a small detector (actually it was a Temporal/Dimensional Phase Detector – a device used to tell if something wasn’t in its proper time, place or dimension) out of his back pocket and turned it on. It began to beep, causing Truck to smile. As Sheriff Bob approached the group, the beeping got faster making Truck’s grin get wider. He switched it off.

“Good,” Sheriff Bob began, “I’m glad to see you kids outside. This building is conDEMNED!”

“But we already…” Danforth started but Tommy stepped on his foot to shut him up.

“That’s right, Sheriff Bob,” Tommy took up, “We waited out here just like you said.”

“Sheriff Bob?” Truck said as he approached the local law man. “I am damn glad to meet you. My name is Truck. I’m a bounty hunter.”

Sheriff Bob suddenly looked nervous. “Ulp! Did… Did you say… ‘Truck’?”

“That’s right, Sheriff Bob,” Truck said with a big, shark’s smile. “And the last time I saw you… You were about yay tall,” he held his hand about five and a half feet from the ground, “had pasty white skin, bright red hair and wore a black suit with a red. Bow. Tie.” He paused dramatically. “And your name was…”

“Frank?” Tommy suggested.

“That’s right,” Truck said. “Frank.”

“It wasn’t me, Truck,” the Sheriff sputtered. “Honest! It was Speedy!”

“You were the sleaziest embezzler on three planets in TWO dimensions! TWO, Frank! And now, with that under your belt, you’re trying to pass it all off on Speedy?! Come on, pull the other one.”

Sheriff Bob deflated. It was odd for the kids to see him like this. He was always the big, bad, solid, strong man (even if he was an occasional ass), and now to see him like a kid caught stealing cookies out of the cookie jar! It blew the mind.

“All right, all right, I’ll tell ya.” He took a deep breath, prepared to confess it all. “It was…”

Unbeknownst to Truck and the gang, the Sporks had been chewing on the force field generator (the major design flaw in that particular model was the force field didn’t protect the generator) and the force field dropped like a blonde’s panties on prom night. The screaming chant of “Mine! Mine! Mine!” began again as the thousands of Sporks came flying out the door.

“Aw, shit!” Truck yelled. “Get in the sheriff’s car! I’m driving!”

Truck, Sheriff Bob/Frank and the kids all ran for and piled into the sheriff’s car. Truck, behind the wheel, started the car and peeled out of the parking lot fast. This was his element. He loved high speed pursuits! He fought down an urge to give a Southern boy yell of “Yee-haw!” as he drove away. He DID have an image to keep in front of these kids.

Once they were clear of the swarm of Sporks, Truck laid into Frank again. “All right, Frank. Spill it! Who set this up? Huh?”

Tommy, face white with shock and disgust (as if a pair of Danforth’s bikini brief ended up in her lap), had the sheriff’s head in her lap. Her voice shook with dread as she stated, “He can’t answer you, Truck! He’s already dead!”

One Satanic Spork had his tines in the sheriff’s back. He turned his face to the roof and yelled happily, “I WIN! HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

To everyone’s disgust, he began to feed on the sheriff.

Chapter Two: Enter the Ninja

The sheriff slowly rolled his head to the side. “Who’s dead?” he squeaked out.

“Oh my God! He’s NOT dead!” Sunny screamed.

“Sunny, will you please stop screaming? It’s hurting my ears.” Sheriff Bob painfully sat up.

“Sorry, Sheriff Bob,” Sunny apologized.

“YOU,” Tommy said to the Spork, “need to go.” She plucked it from the sheriff’s back and rolled down the car window.

“No. Hey, wait! What’re you doing?!” the Spork screamed in terror.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the Spork out the window. A fading, wailing scream of “Noooooo!” could be heard for a second before Tommy rolled the window back up.

“Okay, Frank. Talk,” Truck demanded again.

“Let’s go to my office, please, Truck. I’ll tell you all about it. But first we gotta drop off these kids.”

None of the kids really wanted to go, this was way too exciting for them. They assaulted the sheriff with various pleadings like, “Aww, come on. We won’t get in the way. Please, Sheriff Bob.”

All except for Blaine. “Oh, thank God! Drop me off anywhere!” he said. When he noticed the others looking at him, he guiltily said, “What?!”

“The kids stay, Frank. Strength in numbers,” Truck said.

Sheriff Bob thought about it, then sighed. “All right. But YOU’RE responsible for them.”

“Deal,” Truck said, “Now where am I headed?”

* * *

Minutes later, outside the police station, Tommy, Sunny and Lamont leaned against the hood of the sheriff’s car as Danforth and Blaine leaned against the wall. Truck towered over Sheriff Bob as the lawman, sweating profusely, sat on a bench. Truck decided to hold his interrogation outside because the east Texas night was clear and calm.

Truck said, “Okay, Frank. Talk.”

“Well, at first Speedy was just ecstatic that we got away.”

“Who helped you?”

Sheriff Bob reluctantly said, “Zyganians.”

“Oh great. Big Daddy’s gonna LOVE that,” Truck said sarcastically.

“Who?” Sheriff Bob/Frank said.

“Never mind. Continue.”

“Well, the Zyganians got us here, set us up and gave us enough gold to set up shop.”

“Doing what?” asked Truck

“Whatever the hell we wanted to,” Sheriff Bob/Frank answered smugly. “That place we were just at? Hell, that was MINE. I opened it.”

The kids were flabbergasted. Tommy was the only one willing to speak. “YOU opened Big Bob’s Booby Hatch?”

Sheriff Bob/Frank was indignant. “Sure! You think I was always a sheriff?”

“No,” Truck said, bringing Sheriff Bob/Frank back down to earth, so to speak. “At one time, you were the biggest embezzler on three planets in two parallel dimensions, including the Wazzawanni system.”

It didn’t quite work. “Yeah, and I paid it all back, too.”

“Whatever. So the Zyganians set you up here. What happened? Where’s your titty bar? Community shut you down?”

“You think I’d be sheriff in a town that drove me out of business?” Sheriff Bob/Frank was still indignant.

Truck folded his arms and said matter-of-factly, “Yes.”

“Well, you’re right. They did. But only when people started disappearing.”

“Disappearing?” Truck’s interest piqued.

Sunny had a thought. “I sorta remember my parents talking about that,” she said. “I think my dad’s brother was one of the one’s who went missing.”

“He was, Sunny,” Sheriff Bob/Frank said. “He was the third one, actually.”

“How many people in all?” Truck asked.

“Thirty-seven,” Sheriff Bob/Frank answered a bit sheepishly.

Truck’s jaw dropped like the first time he saw Bea Arthur naked. “Thirty-seven?!”

The teenagers, knowing the statistics on anything interesting happening in their boring little town, unanimously replied, “Thirty-seven.”

“Thirty-seven people go missing, all of them near YOUR titty bar?” Truck was still astonished.

The sheriff became indignant again, as if Truck was saying that it was HIS fault. “We didn’t know that at first! We couldn’t’ find ANY connection among those people. None. Zip. Nada. Except that they all went missing around 2:30 am. On the side of town near the bar. The same time the bar closed.”

Truck took the high road again. “Not very perceptive cops in this town, huh? Especially if YOU’RE a step UP.”

Sheriff Bob/Frank wasn’t rising to the bait. “I’m a damn good cop, Truck. I’m the one that figured it out. That’s why I’M sheriff.”

“Well, la-dee-dah! And just HOW did you figure it out?” Truck asked.

The sheriff thought about it a minute and answered, “Well, I stayed after close one night, the manager usually locked up at night. But this time I stayed late. I caught a couple of the girls taking a customer downstairs. I thought they had worked out some kinda deal and were making some extra money. I didn’t think anything of it until a couple days later when I saw in the paper that he was the latest victim.”

Truck started applauding Sheriff Bob/Frank, his tone dripping with sarcasm at this point, “Brilliant. Wow. That was SOME detective work there, Frank. No wonder you are the leading law enforcement official in this county.”

Blaine, now a little more confident, decided to put in his two cents. “Well, we haven’t had anything like that since then.”

“That’s right,” Sheriff Bob/Frank said, crossing his arms in defiance of Truck’s scathing sarcasm of his law enforcement ability.

It wasn’t Truck that brought him down this time, though. It was Sunny. “Except for the last six months when the disappearances started up again.”

Sheriff Bob/Frank’s face fell instantly. “Oh. Yeah.”

Truck wanted to get to the bottom of this. He couldn’t let it go. This was a mystery. “So what was it about these strippers? Why’d they do this? What was their reason?”

“I don’t know. We checked the homes of these girls, but they were listed as missing as well. While at the bar, I looked all over for them, but couldn’t find hide nor hair of them there either. So I closed the Booby Hatch, boarded it up and nothing since.” He paused, then remembered. “Well… Except for the… last six months. Like Sunny said.”

Truck put his hand on his chin, thinking hard. “Hmmmm.”

“What you thinking, Truck?” Sheriff Bob/Frank asked.

“I’m thinking I got my main target sitting right here in front of me.” Sheriff Bob/Frank looked worried. “I don’t even know why I’m talking about this damn bar anyway.”

Tommy put her hand on Truck’s knee. He noticed. She noticed. No one else did. She pleaded with him. “Can’t you help us with this, Truck? People are going MISSING. And if you take Sheriff Bob away, you’re taking away our two best chances of stopping it. Him and YOU.”

Truck looked at Tommy and his lopsided grin came back. “I MIGHT be persuaded to stick around.” He looked meaningfully at the sheriff. “Once my partner gets here.”

The sheriff looked like he was going to be sick. “P-p-p-partner?”

* * *

About an hour later, Truck, Sheriff Bob/Frank and the kids were still lounging outside the police station. Truck was sitting on the hood of the sheriff’s car and the sheriff was leaning against the wall, looking morose. The kids had taken over the benches.

The sound of a Harley-Davidson three-wheeled motorcycle, known as a trike, came rumbling out of the West. Truck realized just then that his partner always rode in from the West. Eventually, one of their assignments was going to be on a western coast and the only way he was going to ride in was on a boat.

As the trike came in to view, the kids’ attention all snapped up to see the sleek, deep purple, heavily custom modified three-wheeled motorcycle. The metallic purple paint job had the girls “ooh”-ing and “aah”-ing. The heavy rumble of the high horse power engine and the two large weapons mounted on the front had the boys “ooh”-ing and “aah”-ing. No one but the sheriff noticed the two Trans-D-Drives mounted on the back over the tires.

Riding this wonderful specimen of modern (and futuristic) technology was a very tall, very wide at the shoulders black man wearing a suit so dark purple as to almost be black. He shut the engine off, stood up and stretched his back, neck and shoulders.

“Evening, Truck,” his deep basso rumbling voice said. Truck stepped over to him and they shook hands.

“Evening Big Daddy Fred.”

“Who’s the fan club?”

Truck walked Big Daddy Fred over to the kids and said, “Big Daddy Fred, allow me to introduce you to this town’s version of the Scooby-Doo gang. This is Tommy, Sunny, Blaine, Lamont, and… heh heh Danforth! HA HA HA! I knew I couldn’t say it HA HA with a straight HA HA face! BWAH HA HA HA!” Truck burst out laughing at Danforth’s name, and the look on the teenager’s face didn’t help any.

Big Daddy Fred looked the kid over. “’Danforth,’ huh? Did your parents not like you very much?”

Truck finally calmed down after a moment.

“And who’s Johnny Law over there?” Big Daddy Fred asked.

“THAT,” Truck said, “is Sheriff Bob, the local law around here. But WE know him as ‘Frank.’”

“No shit,” Big Daddy Fred said. He walked over to Sheriff Bob/Frank, looked him up and down and said. “Wow, Frank. The last time I saw you, you were about yay tall, had that pasty white skin and red hair. And whatever happened to that black suit and red bowtie? You sure, ummm… CHANGED.”

Suddenly Big Daddy Fred and Truck burst out laughing. VERY HARD. Sheriff Bob/Frank pouted. “And just WHAT is so god-damned funny?!”

Truck calmed a little. “Nothing, Frank. He he he. Nothing at all.”

The sheriff’s anger was diverted for a moment when the phone in his office started to ring. “Shit. Hang on, I’ll be right back. Then you can continue laughing at me.” He sulked away towards the phone.

Big Daddy Fred finally calmed down. “Wow,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I needed that. Heh heh heh. So, Truck. You wanna tell me why we’re still here if you got the collar already? What the hell is going on?”

“It’s a little complicated,” Truck said.

“Truck!” yelled Sheriff Bob/Frank from the office. “Come here!”

“All right!” Truck yelled back. He looked at Tommy. “Tommy, why don’t you catch Big Daddy here up to speed?” He takes a couple of steps, then stops. “Oh, Big Daddy Fred, Tommy. Tommy, Big Daddy Fred.” He went inside.

“So, ummm, Big Daddy umm, Fred…,” Tommy said, a little intimidated by Big Daddy Fred’s size. “Pleased to meet you.”

“And you, Tommy,” Big Daddy said, a smile on his face that didn’t really put Tommy at ease.

“So where do I begin…” Tommy started.

“I was captured by strippers,” Blaine suddenly announced without any prompting.

Big Daddy Fred turned a skeptical, though amused, look Blaine’s way. “You were captured by… Strippers.”

“Uh huh,” Blaine said.

“Blaaaine,” Tommy said, clearly annoyed.

“Kid, you gotta be shittin’ me,” Big Daddy Fred said.

“No, sir,” Tommy admitted. “Out at the old abandoned strip club that used to be owned by Sheriff Bo… I mean, Frank. Apparently there’s some Satanic Strippers out there that like to kidnap people and sacrifice them to, ummm Satan, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re still a little unclear as to what they’re actually doing. Blaine got away before he could see anything and when Truck went to rescue Bunny, all he saw was that she was chained to the wall. We still don’t know what happened to Amber or Vance.”

“’Bunny’? ‘Vance’? ‘Amber’?” Big Daddy Fred asked. “You all a bunch a rich kids or something?”

“THEY are,” Tommy said. “I’m just NORMAL middle class.”

Big Daddy Fred started laughing. “Tommy, you are anything BUT normal.”

Truck and Sheriff Bob/Frank come out of the office. “Big Daddy, fire up the Dyke. We’re taking a ride,” Truck said.

“Where we going?” Big Daddy Fred asked.

“We’re going to a titty bar.”

* * *

A small caravan rolled out of the police station parking lot on its way back to Big Bob’s Booby Hatch. Big Daddy Fred and Truck were riding on Big Daddy Fred’s trike, affectionately known as “The Dyke” in memory of his loving mother. She wasn’t a lesbian, but her friends all thought she was. Big Daddy Fred thought it had something to do with her haircut and penchant for flannel shirts.

The second vehicle in the caravan was the sheriff’s squad car, driven by Sheriff Bob/Frank. Tommy, Lamont, Danforth, Blaine and Sunny were his passengers.

After Truck filled Big Daddy Fred in on everything that had happened so far, they began discussing strategies, not easy to do at fifty-five miles per hour on a motorcycle. “So what do you think?” Truck asked.

“It sounds like our boys bit off more than they can chew,” Big Daddy Fred responded. “From what you described, it seems the Zyganians left more than Frank and Speedy here on Earth.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Truck said. “At first I didn’t realize what those little Satanic Sporks were.”

“They sound like Seraaka spawn.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Truck said with a touch of déjà vu. “And Seraaka spawn are MEAN at that age.”

“Man, what you talking about? They’re mean at ANY age, Truck,” Big Daddy Fred said. Truck was glad Big Daddy Fred was driving the Dyke and couldn’t turn to give him a scathing look.

“Well, yeah,” Truck said, sheepishly. “But I’ve never had to pull one out of my back before.”

“How the hell did it get in your back?”

“It flew at me. Had to pull one out of Frank’s back, too,” Truck explained.

“Oh shit,” Big Daddy Fred said, sudden realization dawning on him.

“What oh shit?” Truck asked.

“Seraaka spawn can’t fly at that age.”

“Oh shit,” Truck said.

“Yeah, oh shit. They can’t fly at ANY age, for that matter.”

“So something else is going on here than Satanic strippers,” Truck said.

“It sounds like Frank has a little more story to tell,” Big Daddy Fred said.

“Yeah, for starters, who sucked all these strippers into ‘Satanism,’” Truck said, a little angry at Frank holding out on him yet again.

The two bounty hunters rode in silence for a bit.

“How’s your ship doing?” Big Daddy Fred asked, not liking to drive without conversation. “What’s it called again?”

“The Cosmic Archer,” Truck said. “And I hate it.”

“Why?” Big Daddy Fred asked.

“Because of the damn operating system,” Truck said. “The other day, just as I was closing in on my target, that big bastard from Ratta-Tatta-Fooey Prime, the ship decided to lock up! I got a god damn blue screen!”

“Oh no. What happened?”

“I had to reboot and turn off a couple of systems, including weapons, just so I could catch up to him.”

“Man, that sucks,” Big Daddy Fred said. He could understand using one of the Guild’s older ships. He had saved up for four years, using their old pieces of junk, until he could afford to modify The Dyke with its own Trans-D-Drive engine. It cut down on a lot spending. The only problem was he didn’t have space to store a collar when he caught one. That’s why he usually partnered up with Truck when he needed the space. But now that his investments were taking off, he only did the Inter-Dimensional Bounty Hunter thing as a side project for fun.

Truck thought Big Daddy Fred’s idea of a “fun project” was a little strange. But he collected beer steins, so who was he to judge.

“Yeah, and to top it all off, anytime I try and do a Trans-D jump, or lock weapons, I got that little weirdo avatar that looks like our badge popping up saying shit like, ‘I see you’re trying to transfer dimensions and your Trans-D drive isn’t active. Would you like help with that?’ And I can’t figure out how to turn him off.”

“Oh, hell, I remember that little prick. Took me forever to learn how to keep him from popping up.”

“So how’d you turn it off?” Truck asked.

“You gotta go up to Tools, then down to Preferences. Now, I’ll warn ya that he’ll pop up again when you do this. Just ignore him. Then you go to the tab marked Options, then when that window pops up, click on the button that says, ‘Visuals.’”

“Okay,” Truck said, trying to remember this.

“Once the Visuals window is open, find the tab that says, ‘Helpers,’ and click on that. Then, under the Helpers tab…”

“There’s the turn-off,” Truck said, interrupting Big Daddy Fred. They turned into the parking lot, with the sheriff’s car right behind them. “We’ll finish this later,” Truck said. “I hope,” he added, under his breath.

* * *

Truck hopped off the Dyke and made a bee-line for the sheriff’s car. As soon as the car was shut off, Truck ripped open the door, yanked Frank out and slammed him against the car. “All right, Frank. Enough bullshit. Time for you to spill it.”

Frank was scared now. An angry Truck is not something you want to be in front of, whether the bounty hunter or an actual vehicle. “I-I-I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking abo…”

Truck pulled Frank away from the car and slammed him against it again. “Bullshit. That little ‘Satanic Spork’ we pulled out of your back earlier? That was a genetically altered Seraaka spawn. They aren’t supposed to FLY, but they were.” He glared menacingly at the sheriff. “So give it up. Who started this Satanic stripper cult?”

“I-I-I-I-I-I can’t!” Frank stammered. He was terrified, and not just of Truck. “He’ll kill me!”

“I don’t give a shit!” Truck screamed in Frank’s face. “I’ll kill you right now if you don’t tell me!”

Frank was so scared that he started to cry. Big Daddy Fred didn’t like watching grown men weep. He wandered slowly, gun drawn, into the club.

“All right, all RIGHT!” Frank said. “Speedy said it was okay. He said that if we allowed them to test their new brood here with us, and we’d keep watch over them, they’d make sure that we’d be protected for the rest of our lives.”

“Zyganians setting you up here with Seraaka spawn? That doesn’t make any sense,” Truck said. He thought about it a moment, then decided to file it away for later. “Okay, so what happens when someone comes snooping around your Booby Hatch? Huh? These demonic sporks take care of them? THAT kind of protection?”

“Well, sometimes. Yeah.”

“Doesn’t seem to be working too well, Frank. You know why? ‘Cause me and Big Daddy Fred are here.”

“No he isn’t,” Tommy said.

“What?” Truck said, his head whipping around.

“Big Daddy Fred. He went inside,” Tommy explained.

“WHAT?! SHIT!” Truck stormed over to his motorcycle he had left here earlier and opened the trans-dimensional saddlebag. On the outside it appeared to be the size of a small picnic basket, but on the inside, it was as big as the trunk of a 1968 Chevy Impala. On one assignment, Truck managed to fit six people, not completely comfortable, but with some room, in at one time. As he currently shifted around various weapons and implements of minor, major and mass destruction, as well as other tools of his trade, he silently thanked the British television and radio stations collectively known as the BBC for the wonderful idea of something being larger on the inside than the outside. He had passed along that little tidbit to the Inter-Dimensional Bounty Hunters’ Guild head office tech boys to work out the physics of how to do it. Turned out they had already been working on something similar, but this one television show gave them new inspiration and they managed to get it to work.

“Son of a bitch,” Truck muttered as he continued his searching. “NOTHING going right for me right now. I got my god damned target sitting right here in front of me, but there’s god damn Seraaka spawn – and not just ANY god damned Seraaka Spawn, but god damned genetically altered FLYING god damned Seraaka spawn – flying around here and my god damned target won’t tell me who MADE these god damned genetically altered flying god damn Seraaka spawn. Hey. Wait a minute.” Truck looked up at Frank. “Hey, Frank. You never told me. Who’s making these Seraaka spawn anyway? I don’t see the Zyganians doing it.”

“Aww, come on, Truck,” Frank whined.

“NOW, Frank! I’m in no mood,” Truck was still livid.

“All right,” he said, resigned to his fate. He took a deep breath and sighed it out. “It was you…” but at that moment one of the aforementioned flying god damned genetically altered Seraaka spawn came flying out of the strip club and struck Frank right in the chest.

“YEAH! HA HA HA! GOT YOU!” the Spork/Seraaka spawn celebrated loudly in the weird, high-pitched demonically creepy voice. It was so excited it began to sing Queen, “Nah nah nah. Nah. Nah. Another one bites the dust! Nah nah nah. Nah. Nah. Another one bites the dust! And another one gone, another one gone! Another one bites the dust! Hey! I’m gonna get you, too! Another one bites the dust!”

Truck, on watching this horrible display was sure that if the Seraaka spawn had legs and feet that at this point it would get up and dance. Maybe the Monkey. Or even the Cabbage Patch.

“God DAMN it!” Truck yelled. “Why is NOTHING going right for me today?” He stomped around the parking lot a bit, throwing a well-earned temper tantrum. “First my stupid computer gives me that god damn blue screen of death, pulls me out of a deep sleep to dump me on this planet, where most of my targets seem to run. And then I get a bunch of god damn kids who are trying to play Scooby and the gang and get me wrapped up in the mystery of the week where strippers are kidnapping people and sacrificing them to alien BABIES and calling them Satanic Sporks! My target, who I had in my control within ten seconds of meeting him, convinced me I should stick around and help said Scooby Kids! And where has it gotten me? My partner has been sucked into the stripper hideout and my target is dead! Shit!”

“Not dead,” Frank said weakly. He might not have been dead yet, but he was damn close to it.

Truck ran over to Frank and dropped to his knees beside the former embezzler-turned-strip-club-owner-turned-local-sheriff-turned-bounty-hunter-target-turned-soon-to-be-dead-all-of-the-above. “Come on, Frank. Redeem yourself. Who was it? Was it Speedy? Old Doc Rosenbaum? Hellcat Hailey? Caveman Mike? Stormy Weathers? Who was it that put those god damn genetically altered flying Seraaka Spawn here? Huh?”

“It…” Frank said weakly. “It was…. It was your b…”

He died.

Truck, to put it mildly, did not take Frank’s death well. All the pent-up frustration came out in a rush as Truck stood up and stomped around the parking lot, scaring all the kids except Tommy and Sunny, back into the squad car. “SHIT!” Truck yelled. “Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” He paused. “SHIT!”

“Umm, Mr. Truck?” Tommy said timidly.

“WHAT?! Oh.”

Truck turned to see Speedy standing not five feet from him with a gun pointed at his head, and a pair of strippers pointed more or less in his general direction. “Hello, y’all, Truck,” said Speedy in that way of not-quite-understanding-the English-language-and-attempting-to-speak-it-anyway manner of speaking. “Long time not to have seen you, man.”

“Oh. Hey. Speedy. What’s up?” Truck said.

“Your hands. They will be going up now, yes? Ha ha ha. That is funny, no?” The strippers laugh.

“No,” Truck mutters to himself. Truck slowly raised his hands. “At least let the kids go.”

Speedy thought about it a minute, then came to a conclusion. “Sure. Kids. Go.”

“But…” Tommy began. She didn’t want to leave Truck in the hands of Speedy and those cheap sluts!

“NOW!” Truck yelled. “I got this.”

Tommy and Sunny reluctantly got into the sheriff’s car and slowly drove away.

“Now, Truck. You and your partner will be being sacrificed to our Lord and Master, the Powerful-all Satan! He will then be giving us the power to abandon this ‘Booby Hatch’ and take over the WORLD!”

“You belong in a booby hatch,” Truck thought. Aloud, he said, “You’re kidding.”

“Why would I be kidding?” asked Speedy, totally straight-faced.

“Satan’s all-powerful,” said one of the strippers haughtily. She really looked like she would know, being dressed in all red and black with 4 inch platform shoes on. Truck wondered how she could stand on gravel, let alone walk, in those things.

“Yeah,” said the other stripper.

“And he’ll make us rulers of the world,” said the first stripper.

“Yeah,” said the other stripper again.

Gotta go with what works, Truck thought.

“Make you rulers of the world for what? To make everything pink? With glitter?” Truck asked derisively.

“Hey!” said the first stripper, a little put out. “What’s wrong with pink?”

“Yeah!” said the second stripper. “And glitter ROCKS!”

“So it DOES say something other than ‘yeah,’” Truck thought.

“Girls! Enough!” Speedy interjected.

“Yeah,” said Truck, imitating the second stripper.

“Shut up, Speedy!” said the first stripper.

“Yeah, Speedy,” said the second stripper. “You like glitter, especially when we rub it on your face with our boobs!” Truck thought she was on a roll, once she got going.

“Yeah, I don’t hear any complaints then,” said the first stripper.

“SHUT UP!” Speedy yelled. He looked at Truck then and they had a bonding kind of moment when they both said, with the same tone of understanding, “Strippers.”

“All right, Truck. Into the Booby Hatch with you! We will be dealing with you and Big Fred Daddy enough soon,” Speedy continued.

“Big Daddy FRED,” Truck said.

“Yes. Him too. And there is NOTHING you can do about it! SATAN WINS! HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

Truck and the Satanic Spork Strippers walked into Big Bob’s Booby Hatch ahead of Speedy, who still had a pistol pointing at the bounty hunter.

Chapter Three: The Glitter Dumb

The rattle of chains as Truck and Big Daddy Fred chatted about their current predicament did nothing to improve Truck’s mood for the day.

“This is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Big Daddy Fred,” Truck said petulantly.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Big Daddy Fred said. “YOU were outside, WITH the guns AND local law enforcement.”

“Who happened to be our primary target.”

“’Happened’?” Big Daddy Fred said, whipping his head around. “Why past tense?”

“He got iced.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Truck said. Aw, crap, it was catching. “BEFORE he told me who was making these god damned genetically altered flying Seraaka spawn, too.”

Big Daddy Fred winced. “Ooh, double ouch.”

“And then Speedy puts me in here where I find my much needed back-up already chained to the wall.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I thought I’d do a little recon. Get the lay of the land.”

Truck winced. “Man, that was a bad pun to use in a strip club.”

Big Daddy Fred thought about what he had just said. “Oh. Right. Sorry.” He paused a moment to let it sink in. “Anyway, I thought I’d look around a bit when I ran into Speedy and his Scantily Clad Satanists.”

“Heh. Sounds like a bad punk rock group.”

“And then I was thrown in here where I patiently awaited YOUR rescue attempt.”

“All right, all right,” Truck said, a little sheepishly. “MY turn to apologize. But I wouldn’t have had to rescue you if you hadn’t wandered off in the first place.”

“Okay, I’ll give ya that.”

“I’m glad the kids got away. Maybe they know someone else they can get to help.”

“Like who?” Big Daddy Fred asked.

“Maybe local law enfor… Oh wait. He died.”

“That he did.”

“Maybe state cops. Or the Feds.”

“Maybe they’ll try coming back themselves to get us out.”

“Ha!” Truck said. I seriously doubt it. They’re just kids!”

“Yeaaaah,” Big Daddy Fred drew out the word with a grin. “And I saw the way that Tommy girl was looking at ya, too.”

“What?” Truck said, surprised. “Come on.”

“No, Truck. I’m being serious here. That girl has got the hots for you.”

Truck rolled his eyes. “Come on, Big Daddy, she’s like, what? Seventeen? Eighteen?”

“So? That’s perfectly legal in most states on most planets, including this one. Hell, what was that planet we were on six months ago?”

“The one with all the red grass?”

“Yeah. Legal age there was what? Forty? Hell, you and I wouldn’t even be of age for legal consent there.”

“Yeah, but those freaks can’t reproduce until they’re seventy, so that doesn’t count.”

They stood in silence for a moment, chained to the wall.

“She is damn attractive,” Big Daddy Fred said after a moment.

“That she is,” Truck agreed.

“She’s also here,” Tommy said, popping quietly around the corner.

“What?!” Truck gasped, startled. “Holy shit, Tommy. You scared the crap outta me.”

“And for your information, MISTER Truck, I’m NINETEEN. Well over the ‘legal limit.’”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Me, Sunny and Lamont came back to try and help you.” As she said this, she pulled a couple of small, metal probes out of her pocket and slid the very thin ends into the lock on Truck’s left wrist.

“You bring anything with ya that will get us outta here?” Truck asked, impressed despite his earlier misgivings about her being “a kid.”

“Like this?” Tommy said as she pulled a Thorhammer II heavy pulse pistol out and showed it to the bounty hunters.

Big Daddy Fred was flabbergasted. “Where did you get that?”

“Your bike,” she said as she went back to work on the lock.

“Trike,” Big Daddy Fred and Truck corrected her. The tone of their voices suggested that this wasn’t the first time they’ve had to correct people.

“What?” Tommy said.

“The Dyke is not a ‘bike,’” Big Daddy Fred explained. “She’s a trike. She’s got three wheels.”

“The what?” Tommy said.

“The Dyke,” Big Daddy Fred said.

The lock on the manacle on Truck’s right wrist popped open. “Ah HA!” said Tommy.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” asked Big Daddy Fred.

“Summer camp,” Tommy said as she moved to the other lock. Truck reached over and took the Thorhammer from Tommy’s pocket.

“Gimme this,” he said.

“Sure thing,” Tommy said, total innocence on her face. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Big Daddy Fred was a little distraught. “Looks like I need to change the codes again on the boxes.”

“Nah,” Tommy said. “The codes are fine. Unless you’ve read Crocheting for Dummies.” She glanced over, saw the sheepish look on Big Daddy Fred’s face, and actually stopped working on the lock. “Oh my GOD! You HAVE! That’s where you got that code in the first place!”

“Yeah? So?” Big Daddy Fred responded haughtily as Tommy went back to work on the other lock. “Crocheting relaxes me.”

The lock on the manacle on Truck’s other wrist popped open. Truck stepped away from the wall, stretched both his arms and powered up the weapon.

“Good job, Tommy. I’m gonna have a look around while you get Big Daddy Fred loose,” Truck said.

Before Truck could wander off, Big Daddy said, “Hey, remember what happened the last time one of us tried to get the lay of the land around here.”

Tommy, working on the lock on Big Daddy Fred’s left wrist screwed up her face. “Ewww. Bad pun to say in a strip club.”

“Sorry,” Big Daddy Fred apologized to her. To Truck he said, “But that doesn’t change things, Truck.”

“I know, Big Daddy. I’ll be careful,” Truck assured the big bounty hunter. He walked off, Thorhammer II heavy pulse pistol at the ready.

“Damn him,” Big Daddy Fred said once Truck was gone.

“How’d you guys meet?” Tommy asked as she worked on the lock.

Big Daddy Fred turned his head away from Tommy. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Aww, come on, Big Daddy Fred,” Tommy said, concentrating on the locks a moment. “These locks are different, they’re gonna take a little longer.” When there was no response after a minute, she prompted him again, “Sooo, how’d you guys meet?”

“Moonbeam,” Big Daddy Fred said reluctantly with a sigh.

Tommy stopped working on the lock. When Big Daddy Fred looked at her, he could see she was clearly confused. And why wouldn’t she be? When asked how you met someone and you respond, “Moonbeam,” who the hell WOULDN’T be confused if they didn’t know what the hell you were talking about.

“Moonbeam?” Tommy asked.

“My sister,” Big Daddy Fred said.

Tommy, her curiosity temporarily sated (but not satisfied), went back to the lock.

“Oooh. A WOMAN,” she said.

“Not just any woman,” Big Daddy Fred said. “My SISTER.”

“Of course. Big brother always wants to take care of little sister,” Tommy said, a little sarcasm creeping into her voice.

Big Daddy Fred grinned. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” he said.

“I am,” Tommy nodded, a small, almost sad smile on her face.

“What’s his name?” Big Daddy Fred asked.

“Harry.”

“How come you’re not hanging out with HIM tonight?”

“He’s dead,” Tommy said matter-of-factly.

Big Daddy Fred was at a loss for words. “Oh. God. I’m… sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tommy said. “It happened a long time ago.” The lock she was working on finally popped open. “Ah HA! There’s one.” She moved around to the other lock and started working on that one. “So tell me more about your sister.”

“Actually, she’s my older sister, and a bounty hunter as well,” Big Daddy Fred said, glad to be off the subject of Tommy’s dead brother.

“Ooooh. Even WORSE than an older brother. A YOUNGER brother looking out for an older sister is ten times WORSE,” Tommy said.

“I take it you got a younger brother, too?” Big Daddy Fred asked.

Tommy nodded. “Richie,” she said.

Big Daddy Fred smiled. “Well, where’s he at? Why isn’t he looking out for his older sister?”

“He’s dead,” Tommy said.

“Oh,” Big Daddy Fred said. “Ummm… Huh.” He cleared his throat.

Tommy, in the pregnant, uncomfortable silence, continued working on the other lock. After a minute or so, during which Big Daddy Fred did everything he could to look anywhere but at Tommy, the other lock finally popped open.

“Ah, to be free again,” he said, massaging some feeling back into his wrists and hands.

Big Daddy Fred and Tommy stood for a moment in companionable, yet still uncomfortable silence, when Truck came back around the corner.

“Okay, I got a… What the hell is the matter with you two?” he asked when he noticed the looks on their faces.

Before Big Daddy Fred could answer, Truck said, “Never mind. I got a good idea of how this place is laid out AND I got the start of a plan.”

“Great,” Big Daddy Fred said sarcastically. “Does it involve running and screaming like the last time?”

“Oh har har har,” Truck said. “No. But Tommy, I need you to go to the closest department store and buy all the cheap jewelry you can, the shinier and gaudier the better. We need pink clothes, nothing over a size 3, and play money, as much as you can get, especially ones.”

“Oh god,” Big Daddy Fred said, seeing where this was going.

“What the hell is all that for?” Tommy asked.

Truck smiled. “A distraction.”

* * *

Deep in the bowels of the strip club (but if the strippers ever thought of it or heard it called “bowels,” they’d move out), all the Satan-worshipping women who take off their clothes for single dollar bills were sitting on the various couches and chairs and bean bags, discussing customers and weirdoes and other unsavory types they bilked out of their money.

Morgan, flowing red hair that expertly covered her breasts when she wanted it to, was telling the new girls, Bunny and Amber, what it was like to earn their money.

“So I told this guy, I said, ‘No way, loser. I don’t care what kind of car YOU drive! I have to be able to drive a brand new Lexus! So if I say the table dance is thirty dollars instead of TWNETY dollars, then that means I’m getting my new Lexus.’”

Milly, a blonde who had some experience, but not as much as Morgan, cheered her on, “That’s right, Morgan! You tell him!”

“Oh, I did, Milly. I told him good!”

“What happened?” Amber asked. “Did he pay the thirty dollars?”

“Your damn right he did,” Morgan answered. “He LOOOVED my boobies! He woulda paid FIFTY dollars that night, if I’d a told him that’s what it cost!”

“Wow,” Bunny said.

Just then, a brunette with a page-boy cut, wearing a skimpy sailor suit came tearing into the room, her face screwed up and shaking her hands wildly.

“Ewwww! Guh-ROSS!” she shouted as she stood in one spot and squirmed, clearly grossed out to the max.

“What’s the matter, Candi?” Morgan asked.

“Speedy wants me to watch a porn with him,” she said.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked Bunny.

“He asked me to fix him some pizza rolls!” Candi explained.

“And?” Bunny asked, still not seeing a problem.

“He said,” said Candi, “’You can’t be watching the porn without some eating of the pizza rolls!’”

This grossed out all the strippers, Bunny and Amber among them. They all said, “EWWWWW!”

Another stripper came running into the room, as fast as anyone could run while wearing four inch platform high-heeled shoes. “Girls! Girls! There’s free jewelry out here! TONS of it!” she squealed with delight.

“What?” Morgan asked, standing up on her own four-inch platform stiletto high-heeled pumps. “Where?”

Yet another stripper came running into the dressing room at this point. Her shoes only had two inch platforms, so she ran faster than the others. “Girls! Girls!” she squealed with more delight than the stripper announcing free jewelry. “Free money!”

Morgan was skeptical. “We already GET free money!”

“But this is easier,” she explained, not wanting to lose her audience. “All you have to do it CATCH it!”

“Catch it?” said Milly. “Like crabs?”

“No, retardo,” said the stripper in two-inch platform shoes. “It’s falling from HEAVEN or something!”

“Well what are we standing around talking ape-shit history for?” asked Milly. “Let’s GO!”

She started to run (as fast as she could in her four inch platforms, it didn’t get her very far) when she noticed the other girls just standing there. “What?”

“What’s ‘ape-shit history’?” asked Candi. The other girls nodded.

“It’s like…” Milly had to think about this one. “It’s like history that happened a long time ago,” she answered, pleased with herself.

“Like the ‘80’s?” Candi asked, still a little unclear.

“Yes!” said Milly, happy that her thought connected to Candi’s.

“Then stop talking and let’s get some money!” screamed Morgan delightedly. She ran (as fast as she could) out the door with the other strippers following her as fast as they could.

* * *

Truck, Big Daddy Fred, Lamont, Tommy and Sunny were on the roof of Big Bob’s Booby Hatch at that very moment, tossing cheap jewelry, pink clothing and one dollar bills from A Child’s First Bank Account play set.

Sunny leaned over to Tommy and whispered, “Are you sure this is going to work?”

“Trust me,” Tommy answered. “These bimbos are going to be running out here any minute. How much fake money you got left?”

Sunny did a quick inventory of what she had left and said, “I still got a couple thousand in ones.” She giggled. “Despite the danger, this is kind of fun.”

Truck overheard her, leaned in with a wink and said, “That’s why I love this kind of work, sweetheart.”

Suddenly a high-pitched scream was let out below them. The strippers were coming out the door and boy were they HAPPY!

“Oh my GAWD!” screamed Morgan as she picked up a pink babydoll shirt. “Look at this! CLOTHES TOO!”

The other strippers came “running” out of the door, snatching up whatever they found on the ground: cheap jewelry, fake money, pink clothes, rocks, dirt, leaves… No one ever said they were smart.

“Hey,” Tommy said, peeking over the side. “Bunny and Amber are with them.”

“Let me see,” Lamont said with a grin.

“The hell you will,” Sunny said, yanking him away from the edge.

“Hey, hey, quiet down,” Truck warned. “Maybe if we can stop Speedy, they’ll revert back to…” He watched them scrambling in the dirt after the pink clothes, fake money, rocks and leaves just like the other strippers. “They were like this before they were captured weren’t they?”

“Pretty much,” Tommy and Sunny said.

“OOOOOH, GIRL!” screamed Milly like a bat with a sore throat. “Look at these EARRINGS!”

Candi noticed the dollar bills and dove for some. “And MONEY! Dollar bills all over!”

A small scuffle broke out as the girls started grabbing all the cash they could find. A couple of them only got one or two, but Candi got a whole handful.

As Candi was looking at some of the bills, she made a startling discovery that her brain just couldn’t quite wrap itself around. “Hey, wait a minute!” she yelled. The girls all stopped scrambling after the cash. “This money’s PURPLE!” She looked closer. “With a picture of a CHICKEN on it!”

“Uh oh,” Truck muttered from the roof as the strippers all started looking closely at their money they had scrounged off the ground.

“Hey!” yelled Milly. “Who uses a purple chicken on their money?”

“Shit,” Truck said under his breath. “We were so close!”

Tommy leaned over the edge of the roof and said, “It’s Canadian money!”

Ten seconds went by as the bounty hunters and their young assistants on the roof waited for a response. When it came, they had to refrain from celebrating too loudly. “Yeah, ya dumb bitch!” said Candi to Milley. “It’s Canada people money!”

Milley rounded on Candi, hands on her hips. “Who are YOU calling a dumb bitch, you… you… you… COW!”

“Cow?” said Candi.

“Uh huh,” said Milley.

“Cow,” said Candi.

“Mm-hmm,” said Milley.

“A cow!” said Candi.

“Yep,” said Milley.

“I’ll show YOU who’s a cow, you… BULL BITCH!” Candi screamed as she jumped at Milley, knocking them both to the ground, neither one of them able to stand on gravel in their platform shoes while slapping at each other. Once they were on the ground, they started pulling at each other’s clothes, such as they were wearing.

Truck, peeking over the side, chuckled to himself. “Huh. THAT worked.” He turned to Tommy. “Good thinking, kid. Come on, let’s…”

He was interrupted by Morgan clapping her hands together and yelling, “Hey! Hey! HEY! What are you two doing?”

Truck fell back onto his ass, depressed. “Damn it. Can’t ANYTHING go right?”

Morgan continued, “Can’t you wait for the baby oil before you two wrestle?”

Morgan’s berating of the two wrestling strippers wasn’t what Tommy had expected to hear. “Oh. My. God,” she said.

“Wait here,” Morgan said cheerily. “I’ll go get it.” She ran inside to find some baby oil.

Truck looked at Big Daddy Fred, and with the same look on their face, they said, “Strippers.”

“All right, let’s go,” Truck said. He stood quietly and led the group inside.

* * *

Truck snuck up to a corner, peeked around it and motioned for Big Daddy Fred and Tommy to follow him.

“Are you sure it was a good idea to leave Lamont and Sunny up on the roof by themselves?” Tommy asked.

“They’ll be fine,” Truck assured her. “We needed to leave someone up there to keep throwing ‘Canada people money’ to the strippers anyway.”

Tommy giggled at the thought of those strippers diving for fake money, thinking it would make them rich Canadians.

“That was a stroke of genius, Tommy,” Big Daddy Fred complimented her.

“Thanks,” Tommy said with a smile.

Truck slowed as they crept along the hallway. Soon, he signaled them to stop.

“All right,” he said. “We’re coming up on the lab. Keep your eyes open and your yap shut.”

As they crept forward, they could hear Speedy talking to someone on a phone.

“I am telling you,” Speedy said into the mouthpiece, “I am not KNOWING how they have been escaping. I had the strippers been putting them in the chains… I am being telling you, I DON’T KNOW how they escapaded… Escaped. Yes, that too.”

“Sounds like he’s talking about you two,” Tommy whispered. Truck nodded.

“The strippers had been putting Truck in the chains to be having been put into the dungeon with Big Fred Daddy… Yes, him, too. I went to check on the growings of the spawn-thingies and when I was coming back, Truck and Big Fred Daddy… Yes, him too, they were not being there! They were being GONE!”

“God he talks weird,” Tommy said.

“You should have heard him when he had a speech impediment,” said Big Daddy Fred.

Tommy giggled a little too loudly, until Truck shot her a warning glance. Luckily, Speedy didn’t seem to hear it.

“No, I am sure being that Frank was not saying anything of who you are being. Truck is not knowing. Neither is Big Fred Daddy… Yes, him too.”

“Okay,” whispered Truck. “Let’s go.”

They crept closer to the lab, unbeknownst to Speedy who still talked into the phone. “Yes… Uh huh… Yes… Nope-areeno. No, damn it! I am being telling you! I will being finding them and be sacrificing the blood and organisms… Yes, them too… ULP!” Speedy broke off his conversation when Truck placed the barrel of the Thorhammer II heavy pulse pistol against his head.

“Put him on video,” Truck whispered.

“Speedy? What’s wrong?” came a voice out of the earpiece of the phone.

“Ummm, nothing is, ummm being of the ummm… wrongness kind.”

Truck put a little pressure against the back of Speedy’s head, and whispered, “I SAID, put him on video.”

“Uh… Ow. Uhhh. Sir, I am being putting you on videum.”

“Video,” came the voice from the phone.

“Um, yes, that… um too.”

“Why, Speedy?” asked the voice.

“Ummm… Ummm…”

“Come on,” Truck whispered. “Come up with something.”

“Ummm…” Speedy was clearly at a loss, but he suddenly came up with an idea. “Because… I am being in loving with you.”

“What?” said the voice on the phone.

“What?” Truck said.

“What did you say?” asked the voice.

“Ummm, YES!” Speedy ran with it. “Yes, I am being loving you, sir! But I am meaning that in the most hermaphrodite…”

“Heterosexual,” corrected the voice.

“Yes, that too. I am meaning that in the most heterosexual way it can be meaning.” No response from the voice on the phone. Truck breathed a momentary sigh of relief. Apparently “the boss” bought it. “So, I am being putting it on video.”

Speedy hit a switch, which turned on a large monitor, just before he set the phone down.

“Feel better, Speedy?” asked the voice, now coming out of a pair of speakers mounted on each side of the video screen.

“Awww, SHIT!” yelled Truck. “Where is he?”

On the screen was a person, apparently humanoid (at least from the waist up), with fairly humanoid features, two eyes, one nose, one mouth on a face on a head on a neck attached to a pair of shoulders at the top of a torso. But the features that appeared to be in the correctly humanoid places were all too familiar: red skin, black hair and goatee, two yellowish goat-like horns protruding from the forehead. Hail, Satan.

“Nice look,” said Big Daddy Fred. “I bet that cost a pretty penny. That’s a Hollywood make-up job right there.”

“Truck, is that you?” asked “Satan.” “And Big Daddy Fred? Are you both there? It’s about time you made it here. What the hell (no pun intended) took you guys so long?”

“Yeah, it’s us, Mr. Mystery Satan Guy,” said Truck, a touch of pissed-off surliness in his voice. “What’s up with the devil make-up and vocal changer? Hiding a bit TOO much, aren’t we?”

“I can’t give EVERYTHING away, now can I?”

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“But since you have obviously put an end to Speedy and his Scantily Clad Satanists… Heh, I never noticed how much that sounds like a bad punk rock group,” said Satan. He paused with a bemused look on his red face for a moment before continuing, “Anyway, since you’ve brought that part of my operation to a close, I think I shall just cut my losses and chalk it up to a lesson learned.”

“Oh yeah?” said Truck cockily. “And what lesson is that?”

“That you are apparently not as bumbling and brainless as I thought you were,” said Satan.

Truck was shocked. Not at the insult, he’d heard plenty of those directed at him, but at the familiar feel of the man who looked like the Devil.

“How do you know me? Do I know you? Huh? Who the hell are you?” Truck demanded.

“Oh, I can’t give EVERYTH…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can’t give EVERYTHING away now, can you?” he mocked. “Already heard that line, get some new material. And while you’re at it, ‘Satan,” get yourself a new Seraaka spawn grower. And some new equipment.”

Truck smiled a smile the real devil would have been proud of as he took the Thorhammer II heavy pulse pistol from Speedy’s head and aimed it at the bubbling jars and cloning equipment.

“No!” screamed Satan. “You can’t! That equipment cost me THOUSANDS!”

Truck turned a sickly sweet mock innocent look towards the screen, his finger at his mouth in mock horror. “Oh my god, did it?” he asked innocently. “I better not touch it then.”

He stood there for a moment, holding that pose, then his cock-eyed grin came back to his face. “Whatever,” he said, cocking the pistol.

“NOOO!” screamed the devil as Truck fired shot after shot at the equipment. “I spent my life savings on that equipment!”

Incubators, bubbling jars, electrodes and electronics, plastic and metal and little pieces of Seraaka spawn (not just any Seraaka spawn, but genetically altered flying god damn Seraaka spawn) started exploding as bolts of energy blasted their way through them. Truck didn’t stop firing until he saw smoke rising from some of the debris that he blew to bits.

“Aaaah,” he said, satisfied. “That should set you back a couple of years.” He turned to the screen. “Remember, Mr. Mystery Satan Guy… I got my eye on you. I’ll be coming after you.”

“Nooooo,” wailed the man dressed as the Devil. “My little flying Seraaka… I’ll miss you.” He looked Truck straight in the eye, and in his most evil voice, he said, “Truck, this isn’t over. Not by a damn sight.”

Truck reached over and broke the connection as he said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Wow,” Tommy said, her eyes wide. “Is it ALWAYS like this?”

Truck grinned his cock-eyed grin at her. “Yep,” he answered. “A thrill a minute.”

Big Daddy Fred rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, yeah, a regular god damned roller coaster of laughs, chills and thrills. That’s life with Truck.”

Truck reached over and grabbed Speedy’s collar. “Alrighty, there, Speedy. Time for you to pack your bags and kiss your strippers good-bye.”

“Really?” said Speedy, a small ray of sunshine in his eyes. “I get to kiss the strippers again?”

“No,” said Truck. “Not on your life. You can kiss them good-bye but you can’t actually… NEVER MIND! Let’s go!”

* * *

Truck closed the door to the prison compartment on the Cosmic Archer and gave Speedy one last look before he left the ship. He stepped to the door and mentally calculated how much money he’d be getting for bringing in a living Speedy alive and a dead Frank. Truck was pretty sure he’d have just enough, with the trade-in of the Cosmic Archer, to be able to put a down payment on a new trans-D ship. One that DIDN’T run on the Windowpane Operating System.

Truck stepped down the gangway towards his partner and the kids who helped him. Big Daddy Fred was shaking hands with Lamont as he hugged Sunny.

“Tommy, Lamont, Sunny, thanks for all your help,” he said, and he realized he meant it.

“Yeah, kids, thanks,” Truck added. “Make sure you thank Blaine and Danforth for not coming back when Speedy let you guys go. Not sure what we would have done without ya.”

Tommy poked Truck in the ribs teasingly as she said, “You probably would have stayed in that strip club… TORTURE chamber until Speedy sacrificed your ‘organisms’ to the Mystery Satan Guy.”

“Yeah, about that,” Truck said, turning to Big Daddy Fred. “Was it just my imagination or did it seem like he knew us, Big Daddy?”

“I did get that feeling,” Big Daddy Fred agreed. “But I have no idea who it could be.”

“Something to ponder as we take Frank’s body and Speedy back to HQ.”

“Well, you seem to have the appropriate vehicle to do it in,” said Sunny. “What did you say it was called again?”

“I call this one The Piece of Shit,” Truck said, “but its official name is the Cosmic Archer. But bringing in these two lowlifes, I can buy my own ship, not use the Guild’s crappy-ass loaners anymore.”

“You already got one picked out?” Tommy asked.

“Does he ever,” said Big Daddy Fred. “For two years, he’s been pining over the Olde Milwaukee.” He turned to Truck. “But you got to admit, Truck, the Cosmic Archer has gotten us into and out of more scrapes than we can count.”

“In more than out,” Truck said.

“And what’s your bike called?” Tommy asked.

“Trike,” Truck and Big Daddy Fred said again at the same time.

“Trike, bike, whatever…. What’s it called?” Tommy said.

“The Dyke,” Big Daddy Fred answered.

Tommy turned to her friends with a superior look on her face. “I told ya,” she said.

“Oh my GAWD,” said Sunny. “Why would you give such a beautiful bike…”

“Trike,” corrected Truck and Big Daddy Fred again.

“Whatever,” said Sunny. “Why would you give is such an awful name like… the… ‘DYKE’?”

“Well,” Big Daddy Fred began. “It’s an interesting story, really…”

“That I’m afraid we don’t have time for,” Truck interrupted. He knew how long this particular story could take. “The short version is measured on a calendar rather than a watch,” he added.

“Awww,” the kids said, but they chuckled at the hurt look on Big Daddy Fred’s face.

Truck turned back to the gangway, but he paused when Sunny asked him, “Jesus, Truck, aren’t you even going to kiss Tommy good-bye?”

Truck looks at Tommy and sees her patiently awaiting the aforementioned kiss. “Nope,” Truck said.

“Will I ever see you again, Truck?” Tommy asked.

Truck thought about that for a moment. “Never can tell,” he said. Then he walked over to Tommy. “Aww, what the hell?”

He took Tommy in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth. Their arms wrapped around each other as the kiss deepened and lengthened. Finally, when everyone else began to feel a little uncomfortable, they broke off the kiss for a breath. Their eyes locked for a few seconds until Big Daddy Fred broke the silence. “Come on, lover boy. Let’s roll.”

“You got it,” Truck said. “See ya all.” He marched into the Cosmic Archer without looking back.

Lamont, Sunny and Tommy stepped back as the ship’s engines got louder and louder. Suddenly, it disappeared with a small popping sound.

Big Daddy Fred fired up the Dyke and drove off down the road. If the kids had been able to see around the corner, they would have seen Big Daddy Fred disappear in the same way.