Poetic Injustice: The Jaded Poet Story.

As he watched the four residents of the duplex, he saw a curious sight. One of the members of the Power Pack had strolled up to the door. He opened the door without knocking, said "You have no idea" and stepped inside.

Jaded Poet watched this much interest. He stared through the binoculars, intent to read the lips of those talking inside. He could make out little from their movements, but he was able to get that Primus had left his team to join up with this group here.

Poet began to analyze what this meant. What it meant for this group here, what it meant for the Power Pack, and what it meant for The Agency, and what it meant for him.

Poet put down the binoculars and looked at his watch. Three hours he had spent watching the duplex. Three hours that would bring considerable pay, but this new development with Primus would bring even more.

Poet smiled. The Agency sure did love him. He was the only independent hitman they ever brought on as a full member. He had Lichton to thank for that.

Poet put his binoculars away and brought out his cell phone and his gun. He had to call Lichton to report in, but he got out his gun just in case.

Poet knew he always had to be ready for a kill, even when he was doing the most simple of tasks.


Two Years Ago

Woman: I just love your work.

Jaded Poet: Thank you.

Jaded Poet singed his name in her book and handed it back to her. She looked at it with a smile on her face and left.

Jaded Poet: Next please.

Jaded Poet, aka James Phearson, was at his book singing. His third published collection of poetry had hit the shelves and he was touring the book stores.

He hated autograph sessions.

There was nothing worse than to hear the most simple minded people recite his poetry. And they did it poorly. Always messing up lines, never catching the right tone, and never fully understanding the meaning. The only reason they read his work is because they wanted to appear sophisticated. All because he was Time's Poet Of The Year back in 2002. He had published his first collection that year and had gained a reputation of "being able to paint the most complicated of human emotions with his words". He had a strong fan following ever since.

Of course, he also had to deal with the Questions. The Questions were all the same. "What inspires you?" "How do you write this stuff?" "Who's your favorite poet?" "What's your favorite poem you wrote?"

He answers them, of course. Always with a smile on his face. And sometimes it's not a false smile. If they knew the answer to what inspires him, they would run away screaming.

The next fan came up and placed his copy of the book in front of Poet.

Jaded Poet: And who do I make this out?

The fan: To Brad Arliss. It's going to be a surprise to him. If you would, please write out "To Brad Arliss, Happy Birthday over there on 1623 Maple Street".

Jaded Poet looked up at the man.

Jaded Poet: Will do.

Poet handed the book back to him and continued the session for the next hour.

The next day Jaded Poet and the two lackey his publishers assigned to him on this tour had packed up their things and left town.

That night they had stopped at a motel to catch some rest.

Jaded Poet: You guys good?

Lackey 1: Yes. Mr. Phearson.

Jaded Poet: Good. I'm going to go out for a drive. I'll be gone for a couple hours. I'll call you on your cells if I get into trouble.

Lackey 2: What are you going out for?

Jaded Poet: Inspiration.

Jaded Poet had drove back into town. He had parked his car on the 1400 block of Maple Street, got out and began to walk.

He strolled right up to 1623 and knocked on the door.

A man answered. He looked tired and surprised.

The Man: It's a little too late to be knocking on people's doors, don't you agree?

Jaded Poet: Just because a visitor makes his arrival at your door, it doesn't mean you have to answer. Alas, you did, so you must be a lonely man who welcomes all company at even the most odd of hours. Is that accurate, Mr. Brad Arliss?

The man blinked his eyes in surprise and the sound of his name.

Brad: Well, since you know my name, you might give me the pleasure of knowing yours.

Jaded Poet: My name is a gift best presented to those who have invited me into the comfort of their homes.

Brad: In that case, come on in.

Jaded Poet entered Brad's house and took a look around. He was able to surmise that Mr. Arliss did indeed live alone.

Jaded Poet: It looks as those my speculation of your living environment was correct.

Brad: I guess. Now how about you give me your name and and the reason you are here.

Jaded Poet: For all intents and purposes, my name at this particular juncture in both of our lives shall remain anonymous. My reason for being here is simple: I was sent here.

Brad: To do what?

Jaded Poet: To give you this.

Poet handed Brad a piece of paper.

Brad: And what am I supposed to do with this?

Jaded Poet: Read it.

Brad: Why?

Jaded Poet smiled and took a gun out of his inner coat pocket.

Jaded Poet: Because everybody deserves to say something beautiful before they die.

Brad stared at the gun. The paper trembling in his hands.

Jaded Poet: It's very simple Brad. You read the poem there, out loud, and I kill you swiftly and with no pain. You don't read the poem, then you make this operation very difficult. Not for me, but for yourself. The end result will be the same. You will die.

Brad: It's them, ain't it? They sent you here.

Jaded Poet: That's not for me to say Brad. It doesn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is that you have one last chance to introduce something magnificent into your life before die.

Brad began to read the poem.

Brad: "As I end my exasperated voyage, I am content with shedding all of this foliage. The growth of pain and misery, shall be nothing but a history. And so it was, as the day I was born, I shall die clean, no longer tainted and worn" Nice fucking poem.

Jaded Poet produced a dagger out of his sleeve and lunged at Brad, slicing his throat.

Brad collapsed to the floor clutching his throat, looking at Poet with betrayed eyes.

Jaded Poet: I didn't appreciate your tone or the snide comment.

Jaded Poet pulled a cloth out of his pocket, wiped the blood off of the dagger and placed it back into the sheath hidden in his sleeve.

As Brad let out his last breath, Poet walked out, went back to his car, and drove back to the motel.

One Month Later

Jaded Poet was relaxing in his home when he received a call from his publishing agent, Maria

Maria: Guess what James! I got more exciting news!

Jaded Poet: That's great Maria. What is it?

Maria: That anonymous fan of your has agreed to pay for more of your original drafts. And at the same price as the other ones! If this guy keeps buying more, you could retire at a very early age!

Jaded Poet: Thanks for the good news Maria.

Maria: It's my pleasure. I can't wait to read your next set. Bye!

Poet hung the phone up and sighed. If she only knew.

The death of Brad Arliss had gave Poet exactly what he was looking for. Inspiration. He was already well into writing one of his famous free verse poems when someone began knocking on his door.

Jaded Poet: 'Tis some visitor, tapping at my chamber door. Only this and nothing more.

Poet got up from his writing desk and called out to the person behind the door.

Jaded Poet: How may I help you?

The person behind the door spoke: My name is Ted Lichton. I'm from The Agency.

Poet immediately reached for his gun and tucked it into his back pocket. He opened the door.

Lichton: Thank you for letting me in. We need to talk.

Poet pulled out the gun.

Lichton looked at it calmly.

Lichton: Please don't get the wrong idea, Mr. Phearson. I am not here for insidious reasons. I am here to offer you an invitation.

Jaded Poet put the gun away.

Jaded Poet: This is very unexpected. I was under the impression that I would never have direct contact with anyone from your organization.

Lichton: That was plan. But you have many people in The Agency looking your way. Take your last month's kill for example. You did leave a bit of a bloody mess, but once again, no sounds were heard from the neighbors and no one saw a thing. That was the tenth kill you have done for us and the results have always been the same.

Jaded Poet: Thank you.

Lichton: I'm what you would call a headhunter. I seek out those who would be best suited to work for us. I found you. I'll admit, your prices were steep, but I convinced my bosses to get in contact with you. Therefor your performance has also reflected back on me. I have been promoted.

Jaded Poet: Congratulations. We should celebrate this splendid occasion.

Lichton: Wonderful idea.

Poet and Lichton went into the kitchen. Poet brought out a glass of champagne and poured two glasses.

Jaded Poet: A toast. To The Agency.

Lichton: To The Agency.

The drank the champagne and Lichton motioned to the kitchen table.

Lichton: Let's have a seat.

They sat down and Lichton brought out a notebook he had in his tote bag.

Lichton: Telling you about my promotion is now the only reason I'm here.

Jaded Poet: No?

Lichton: No. I'm here to interview you.

Lichton smiled as he said interview. It did not go unnoticed by Poet.

Jaded Poet: Is this for The Agency Times?

Lichton laughed.

Lichton: No. This is for my bosses. They want an in depth profile on you.

Jaded Poet: My I inquire why?

Lichton: Of course. We have been on the lookout for a special enforcer. A cleaner, if you will. Someone who can take care of certain messes we can't deal with normally.

Jaded Poet: And I am up for this job.

Lichton: Yes. I have nominated you. I have great confidence in you, but they need testaments of all candidates. So, let's begin shall we?

Poet nodded.

Lichton: When did you first learn you were capable of killing?

Poet's eyes searched over Lichton for a few seconds then became contemplative. Poet sat still for a few seconds than answered.

Jaded Poet: The first time I killed a man.

Lichton: Touché. What drove you to kill him?

Jaded Poet: He asked me to.

Lichton was looking down into his notebook as he was writing, but glanced up at Poet's answer.

Lichton: He asked you to?

Jaded Poet: That's correct.

Lichton: Why?

Jaded Poet: He was my neighbor. I was 15 at the time. He stopped by house one afternoon to ask me a favor. He handed me a $50 bill and gave me instructions. Turns out, that 50 was the last money he had. He had gambled most of his savings away, including his daughter's trust fund. He gave me the last of his money to burn his house down. With him in it. We wanted it to look like an arson had struck him while he was asleep. I figured out a way to make it look like an accident. His wife and daughter collected on his insurance and received a new house. No one suspected foul play.

Lichton: So, you killed a man so his family would benefit. Now you are killing strangers for money. Why the transition?

Jaded Poet: As I watched his house burn. I began to think. I thought about his wife and daughter and their loss. I focused on their pain of losing this man they loved over something so foolish. And I considered in my own part in their loss. I could have talked him out of it, but I didn't. I adopted his misery as my own. I now worried about his family. I wrote my first poem that night, pouring my torment onto page. I fell in love with what I wrote and never once regretted what I did to that family afterwards. I tried writing more poems, but none of them lived up to the one I wrote after the fire.

Lichton was writing all of this down. Poet took a drink and continued his story.

Jaded Poet: I dreaded that whatever poetic inspiration I had in that one day was a fluke. Of course, I realized that my preoccupation with the family's suffering is what led to my poetic conception. I needed more. I had to create more misery in order for my talent to produce. I went hunting. Not animals though. I found a bum. He had set up home underneath a railroad bridge that passed over a creek. Knowing he had no family to care for him, I had to figure out a way to feel sorry for his death. So, I filled him up with hope. I gave him some food and drink and told him a tale. One where I was going to be able to find him a real home, get him started on a well paying job, and get his life back on track. The promise of a better life had filled his eyes. I then took out a knife and watched that hope drain out of his eyes. I stabbed him in the side first, to make sure he was aware of my deception before I killed him. The look of betrayal never left his eyes. The poem I wrote that night is the one that opens my first published collection.

Lichton had stopped writing half way through. He had never heard of such a thing. In all of his years working for The Agency, he had never been as stunned as he was now.

He collected himself and finished writing in the notebook. He looked back up at Poet.

Lichton: So, let me get this clear. You kill people so you can write your poems.

Jaded Poet: That is one way of looking at it. I kill people to feel pain and I release that pain through words.

Lichton: So, it's the pain that makes you write?

Jaded Poet: A poet is nothing without his suffering.

Lichton: Fair enough. So, why become a hitman?

Poet smiled at this.

Jaded Poet: If I'm going to kill people, I might as well get paid for it.

Lichton continued his interview for another two hours.

Lichton: Ok, that should wrap it up. You'll be going back on your book singing tour this month right?

Jaded Poet: That's the plan.

Lichton: Excellent. We'll have more work for you.

Lichton gathered his thing. Poet walked him to the door.

Lichton: I hope they pick you. I think you'd be a great asset for The Agency.

Jaded Poet: Thank you. Have a good night Mr. Lichton.

Lichton: You too. And please, call me Ted.

Poet nodded and Lichton left.

Poet stood there, wondering what he was getting himself into. He decided to dismiss the thoughts for now, and began to concentrate on preparation for the rest of his book tour.

One Week Later.

Poet was in a new town on his touring stops. There usually was a reason for a new town to pop up on his map. He was going to have another target there.

And like most of the towns on his book tour, this one was full of idiots on the bandwagon.

Emo Fan: Your poems, like, are the words my soul has been tryin to say for the longest time now. That one poem you wrote, "In The Mirror". How'd that go? "The road your on is near the end. The long journey is yours to defend. The answer you're seeking is near. Your worst enemy is the mirror." That stuff is awesome. I cried. Thank you.

Jaded Poet: You're welcome.

Poet signed his book and the emo kid left. Poet hoped the kid was as good at cutting his wrists as he was at butchering that poem.

The next person came up to the table. He sat a book down in front of Poet.

Jaded Poet: And who do I make this out to?

The Fan: Derrick Reynolds. It's a gift. Please sign it, "Happy Anniversary Derrick. Have another great 15 years of marriage there on 1919 Liberty Street.

Jaded Poet: Will do. Thanks for reading.

Poet handed the book back and let out a sigh of relief. That part was over, now he had to finish pleasing the chumps and he'd be out of the hell hole.

Jaded Poet: Next please.

As Poet called that out, he glanced out of the book store window to see his messenger get into a car. The next fan had began reading a line of his poetry. It was a female voice, and the way she was reciting grabbed his attention.

The Woman: "A smile, a most deadly smile sits upon an innocent face. Trust is not something I give to one with such grace. /Staring at each other for a while, time goes by without a trace. Is dying a better option than to live? You say you just made your case. /The sounds are getting louder, it's time for a change of pace. We come together you and I and we share warm embrace./ Turning ourselves into powder, to see which one wins the race. You took our love and let it die, still keeping your innocent face."

Jaded Poet looked up at the woman. The woman was moderately attractive. Not a real knockout, but cute in her own way. But that didn't matter to Poet. The way she had recited his poetry made her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had set her book down for Poet to sign. It was "A Jaded Poet".

Jaded Poet: "Innocent Face". Nobody has ever recited that one to me. Whom do I make this out to?

The Woman: Emily Page.

Jaded Poet: Why Innocent Face?

Emily: The woman in the poem, you seem to make her out to be a woman who has scorned you, yet tries to hide it unsuccessfully.

Jaded Poet: Go on.

Emily: Yet you are the guilty one in the relationship. You are the one that screwed up and she still feels love and sympathy for you, but decided to end it for the better. Then you both have one final love making session, and you blame her the whole time. "Is dying a better option than to live". That's her ending the relationship. The relationship is dying and it's for the good. "The sounds are getting louder" That's you two arguing. "Turning ourselves into powder, to see which one wins the race". That's you two making love. But not really. It's her way of saying goodbye and your way of saying "stay". The conflict is grinding you both up into pieces.

Jaded Poet: Excellent. You are the first one to properly analyze that one.

Jaded Poet stood up and bowed. Emily blushed.

Emily: Thanks.

Jaded Poet: I feel as though I owe you something. Such a rare treat has never manifested before me. Shall I be so bold as to take you out to a dinner?

Emily was speechless.

Jaded Poet: The whole thing will be my treat, of course.

Emily: Uh, yeah, that'd be great.

Jaded Poet: Very well. Shall we meet here at say, 8 PM tomorrow and go from there.

Emily: It's a date.

Poet smiled and bowed again. The rest of the autograph session breezed by.

The Next Day.

Poet was finished getting dressed in his motel room. He walked over to the room where the lackeys were staying. He knocked and entered.

Jaded Poet: I will be taking a leave tonight gentlemen.

Lackey 1: Off to get more inspiration?

Poet smiled.

Jaded Poet: Yes. And I have a date.

The lackeys gasped.

Lackey 2: Mr. Phearson, it's about time you get some tail.

Jaded Poet: Thank you. And don't wait up for me.

The lackeys laughed.

Poet left the motel at 6 0'clock. He got into his car and pulled a suitcase out of the back. In it was a disguise. He drove around the town for a few minutes, found a secluded spot, and changed into the disguise.

He then drove his car to a nearby laundromat. He parked it, got out, and walked two blocks to a supermarket.

When the coast was clear, he hot wired a Buick Century and drove to 1919 Liberty Street.

He arrived in front of the house at 6:45.

Poet walked up to the house and knocked on the door. Derrick Reynolds answered.

Derrick: Who's there?

Poet cleared in voice and began to talk with a southern accent, masking his real voice.

Jaded Poet: Mister Reynolds, I am the Clerk of the Court and I am here to issue you subpoena.

Derrick opened the door angrily.

Derrick: What the hell! It's that fucking bitch of an ex-wife of mine, isn't it?

Jaded Poet: Mister Reynolds, I don't know about any of that, all I know is I'm here to give you this message. May I step inside for just one quick second?

Derrick: Just give me the subpoena and get the fuck out of here.

Jaded Poet: Mister Reynolds, we have another matter to discuss and it's a bit cold out here, so if you wouldn't mind just letting me in for a few and then I can be on my way.

Derrick stepped back from the door.

Derrick: Be my guest.

Poet entered the house and did a quick survey.

Derrick: So, what's up?

Jaded Poet: You said you have an ex-wife. Did you and she have any children?

Derrick: Yeah, we have a 12 year old son.

Jaded Poet: And where is the child now?

Derrick: Up in his room doing his homework.

Jaded Poet smiled. He was able to appreciate pain more when it dealt with a child.

Derrick: Does my kid have something to do with this?

Jaded Poet: Not yet.

Derrick looked at Poet, puzzled.

Derrick: Well, give me that damned subpoena. I want to read it.

Poet handed Derrick the paper in his hand.

Derrick scanned over it.

Derrick: This is a poem.

Jaded Poet: Yes it is. Why don't you read it out loud.

Derrick gave Poet a disgusted look and threw the paper to the ground.

Derrick: No more fucking games. Tell me what you are doing here.

Derrick pulled out a gun.

Poet anticipated this. He began to talk in his Poetic voice

Jaded Poet: The abnegation of your undertaking appears to be a forfeiture of that you hold dear.

Poet's words confused Derrick, so much that he dropped his guard for a second.

And in that second, Poet made his move.

Poet grabbed an ashtray that was near his hand and hurled it at Derrick. It hit Derrick in the hand, causing him to drop the gun. Derrick bent down to retrieve it.

Poet rammed himself into Derrick, causing them both to fall backwards. Poet picked himself up immediately. Derrick lunged at Poet's legs. Poet jumped and kicked Derrick in the face. Derrick's nose ruptured. As the blood ran down his face, Derrick brought his attention to his nose. Poet removed a knife. Neither of them saw Derrick's son, Rob, come down the stairs.

Rob: Dad, what's going on?

Derrick turned at the sound of his son's voice.

Derrick: Nothing Robbie. Run back up stairs.

Rob: You're bleeding dad.

Derrick: I know son. Don't worry.

Derrick looked at Poet.

Derrick: Please. Not my son. Leave him alone.

Jaded Poet: I have no business with your son. Just you and you alone.

Derrick: Fine. But not in front of him.

Jaded Poet: That's up to you.

Poet retrieved the poem Derrick had thrown to floor. He handed it back to him.

Jaded Poet: Read it.

Derrick: No. I'd rather my son watch me die than to read that garbage.

Jaded Poet: So be it.

Poet quickly stabbed Derrick in both lungs, thorax, and stomach.

Jaded Poet: This is going to be painful.

Poet grabbed Derrick's gun and pointed it at Rob.

Jaded Poet: Don't move. Watch.

Derrick's death took longer than expected. After Derrick died, Poet spoke to Rob.

Jaded Poet: I am going to leave now. Wait ten minutes then call the cops. I'll be watching. If you call them any earlier, I will kill you. Ok?

Rob stared at the body of his father and nodded.

Poet left, got in the Buick and drove three blocks away from the laundromat in a back alley.

He wiped the Buick out, hid behind some bushes, changed back into his original clothes and took of his disguise. He then walked back to his car.

It was 7:40.

At 8 o'clock, he pulled up in front of the book store.

Emily greeted him.

Emily: Right on time.

Jaded Poet: I do my best to be punctual.

Poet had a sly grin on his face.

Emily: You look like the cat that swallowed the canary.

Jaded Poet: Merely an appetizer. What restaurant shall we go to?

Emily: How about Ted's?

Jaded Poet: Then we shall dine there.

The drove to Ted's Fine Dining Steakhouse.

They got a table and began their date.

Jaded Poet: So, why my poetry?

Emily smiled. She had been infatuated with man in front of her ever since she picked up his first poetry collection. She could hardly believe she was now sitting here having dinner with him.

Emily: Are you implying you are the only poet I read?

Jaded Poet: Of course not. But why read my poetry?

Emily: It's cheaper than buying sleeping pills all the time.

Poet laughed. The majority of his fans spent their time trying to kiss his ass. This one was relaxed, making jokes, and having a good time. Poet could read her body language and knew she liked more than just his poetry.

Jaded Poet: So, my poems are the cure for insomnia. Won't the medical world be pleased?

Emily laughed.

Emily: No, your poems are the cause of insomnia. I spent a whole night reading that first collection. The same with other ones.

Jaded Poet: All night reading? You must have gotten one hell of a headache.

Emily: Please. You must have me mistaken for one of those morons who claim to be one of your fans so they can look cool to their buddies.

Poet couldn't hide a smile any longer.

Jaded Poet: You don't know how long I have waited for somebody to recognize that, other than myself.

Emily: I heard the morons chatter away, talking about your poetry as though they knew it forwards and backwards. The only guy who didn't talk was the one in front of me. But I heard him say it was a gift to somebody, so I guess he wasn't a fan.

Poet started to tense up at this, but relaxed when he realized Emily didn't hear the name.

Jaded Poet: So, I'm sure you know quite a bit about me. My biography is on the dust jacket after all. I want to know about you.

Emily: There's not much really. I'm probably the most boring girl you'll ever meet.

Jaded Poet: I write poems. My life isn't full of excitement. Your life might seem like the Adventures of Indiana Jones next to mine.

Emily blushed once again.

Emily: I lived here all my life. I work at Starbucks. I have two brothers and no sisters. My mom was always there for us, my dad spent of the time on the road. He was a negotiator. Not the cop kind, but a busisness one. When he was home, I was daddy's little girl. He spend time with the boys, playing catch and doing all the father stuff. But with me, he would read me bed time stories. Not the usual ones, but he would tell me about his business trips and make everyone seem like a fantasy character. He was really good at that. He died a few years ago.

Jaded Poet: I'm sorry to hear that.

Emily: Thank you. What about your family?

Jaded Poet: Only child. My parents were both factory workers. They're retired now.

Emily: That's all.

Jaded Poet: I told my story would be more boring than what you believed yours to be.

Emily: I think you're hiding something.

Jaded Poet: Mayhap I am. But would you rather have be bring everything out in the open tonight or reveal more as we go along?

Emily: So, are you asking me out to another date?

Jaded Poet: I have one more stop on the book tour to go to. that city west of here, I forget the name, but after that, I'm free. And I would like to celebrate the end of my tour with another dinner with you.

Emily: I can hardly wait.

They continued with their date for another hour, talking about their favorite poets. After dinner, they walked out to their cars.

Emily: So, when you are done with the tour, stop by my house and I'll fix you dinner.

Jaded Poet: Sounds wonderful.

Emily gave him her address and left home. Poet went back to the hotel.

Lackey 1: Hey boss, welcome back. How was the date?

Jaded Poet: Inspiring.

Poet sat down at the desk in his room. He took out his pencil and began to write. The pain of the boy witnessing his father's death was not what was driving his hand. The only thing producing the poetry this time was the thought of Emily.

Jaded Poet had found a muse.

The next day they had set up the autograph booth at the final stop. It was a convention. Poet hated these the most. They lasted forever.

In between autographs, Poet would constantly look at his watch, time seemed to be moving slower. And the questions kept getting repetitive and more stupid.

Fat Fan: When the next book coming out James?

Thin Fan: Where's Stephen King's booth? Is he even here?

Old Lady Fan: My granddaughter just loves your poems. She's always trying to get me to read them, but my eyes these days, I can only read those books that have the big letters. They don't have your book in the big letters. Can you out one out in the big letters?

Another Emo Fan: Hey. I wrote some poetry too. Why don't you read it and tell me what you think.

Hours went by.

He looked at his watch. one lats time. Ten minutes till the event was over. Poet was never more relieved.

The last fan walked up to his booth and sat a book down in front of him.

Jaded Poet: Who do I make this out to?

The Fan: To Emily Page. It's a present. Could you write "To Emily. Have a Happy Birthday there on 2348 Maple drive"?

Poet returned to his motel room, livid.

He called up his agent, Maria. She answered the phone in her usually chirpy voice.

Maria: James, what can I do for you.

Jaded Poet: Get me Lichton.

Maria: Who?

Poet became pissed.

Jaded Poet: Don't play dumb with me Maria. You know goddamn well I wasn't born yesterday. I know you work for them, it wasn't a big fucking secret. So, you get that son of a bitch Lichton for me right now!

For a few seconds, there was no answer. Then Maria spoke, in a much flatter tone.

Maria: Ok James. I'll try to reach him.

Maria hung up the phone. Poet sat on the edge of his bed, and stared.

Three hours later, Lichton showed up at Poet's door.

Lichton entered. Poet waited for an answer.

Lichton: There's no use in bullshitting you. We know you had a date with her.

Jaded Poet: Is this a test? To see if I'm worthy to be your enforcer?

Lichton: Yes and no. She's been on our list for a few years now. She never represented a real threat, until now.

Jaded Poet: I think you better elaborate.

Lichton: I will. Her father worked for us. He was loyal, never told anybody what he was doing for us. Or so we thought. He had a death bed confession he made to his old partner, who was there by his side. He confessed that he told his daughter stories of what he did. He said he mentioned real names and sand kept some details in. He told this to his partner in confidence. Which his partner then told us. His loyalties lies with The Agency, not his friend. That's something we value, James. Loyalty.

Jaded Poet: Why me?

Lichton: I picked you. It was supposed to be passed on to someone else. You already had a name for that town.

Jaded Poet: What makes you think I'm going to kill her?

Lichton: She is a target. If you don't kill her, somebody else will. And trust me, not all of our killers have poetic hearts. This way, you can choose the best way for her to be eliminated. Unless...

Jaded Poet: Unless what?

Lichton: Well, this is just between you and me. If you can figure out a way to make her "gone" so that she's not on The Agency's radar anymore, than by all means, do it.

Poet looked at Lichton. Lichton gave no indication that he was lying about that possibility.

Jaded Poet: Make her "gone".

Lichton: Yes, James. Whatever way you feel is best for everybody.

Lichton left the room. Poet sat on the edge of the bed the rest of the night.

The Next Day.

Poet arrived at Emily's house. She saw him pull up and greeted him at the door.

Emily: I'm so glad you came!

Jaded Poet: Me too.

Emily could tell there was something off.

Emily: What's wrong?

Jaded Poet: I'm just tired. Little sleep.

Emily: Me too. I'm making some tuna noodle casserole? You like?

Jaded Poet: One of my favorites.

Emily gave Poet a quick tour of her house. She brought him to the small dining room and went into the kitchen to check on the food.

Poet removed a piece of paper from his pocket, glanced over it and stuffed it back in.

Emily came out minutes late, with the casserole.

Emily: It came out all right. I hope it's good.

Jaded Poet: I'm sure it will be. So, been bragging to your friends that you're going out with a world renowned poet?

Emily laughed.

Emily: Not yet, you're my little secret. It seems whenever I brag about things, they have a tendency to fall apart. I don't want this to fall apart.

Poet nodded.

Emily: Ok, all we need is the wine now. Let me go get it.

Jaded Poet: Allow me.

Emily: Go ahead.

Poet walked into the kitchen and made two glasses. He brought them out and sat back down.

Jaded Poet: Before we begin, I want to ask you a question.

Emily: What is it?

Jaded Poet: Is there anything keeping you in this town?

Emily: Not really. My family is still here. My mom and brothers. But I hardly visit them any more as it is. Why?

Poet hesitated.

Jaded Poet: If I were to leave tomorrow, to go to Europe or something. Would you come with me?

Emily was shocked at the question.

Emily: James, we really don't know each other that well. Yeah, I've read your poetry sand know some facts about you, but you may be someone completely different behind your own doors. And even if that's not the case, you may find out I'm not everything you think I am.

Jaded Poet: That ok. Just a silly thought in my head. Don't worry about it.

They sat there in silence for a few moments, neither of them moving. Finally, Emily spoke.

Emily: Screw it. Let's do it.

Jaded Poet: What?

Emily: Yeah. Let's go. This is the kind of fairy tales girls dream about when they are young. The young dashing poet comes in and scoops of the girl and takes her to places she's never been.

Jaded Poet: Girls dream of poets?

Emily: Yes. So yeah, let's do it.

Emily picked up her glass.

Emily: A toast to Europe.

Jaded Poet: Wait a second, I have something else.

Emily; What is it?

Jaded Poet: I wrote you a poem.

Poet took the paper back out of his pocket and handed it to her. She unfolded it and began to read it to herself.

Jaded Poet: Read it out loud. I love hearing you read my poetry.

Emily: Ok. "Everything just disappears. Darkness becomes it's disguise. I see a window into paradise, while I am looking through your eyes./I manage to forget all of my fears. The thought of pain is a bundle of lies. My feelings are wonderful and nice, because I am looking through your eyes./ So much emotion, it brings me to tears. Time stands still, and the pain just dies. To find true happiness, I need no advice. All I do, is look through your eyes.

Emily read the poem to herself again. She began to tear up.

Emily: I love this. Thank you. It's not like your other poems. This one is really beautiful.

Jaded Poet: I'm glad you think so.

He held up his glass and so did she. They both took a drink.

Emily's head fell to the table, making a sickening thud. The life in her was gone.

Poet sat there for what seemed like an eternity. Finally he got up. He took his dinner plate and both glasses to the kitchen, cleaned them and placed them back into their cabinets.

He collected his poem, and placed it back into pocket.

Jaded Poet: Goodbye Emily.

Poet left the house.

He would never go on a book tour again. Claiming he was burnt out on poetry, he took an early retirement from writing and left the spotlight that had been on him since his poetry first became famous.

Present Day.

Jaded Poet reached for his phone and called Lichton.

Jaded Poet: A situation has risen here sir.

Lichton: What is it?

Jaded Poet: The Pack member called Primus has allied himself with our group here.

Lichton: Interesting. Ok, we'll pool our info and see where we go from here. Come back to base Poet.

Jaded Poet: On my way.

Lichton hung up the phone. He was not alone in his office. Agent Travis was with him.

Travis: What's going on?

Lichton: Seems Primus may have switched sides.

Travis: Could be a trick. Pretending to be a defector just to get info.

Lichton: Could be, but I doubt it. Not the Power Pack's style. I'll wait and see what Poet has to say about all of this.

Travis: Why do you trust him so much? Do you think he is really that loyal to The Agency?

Lichton: No, far from it. He loyalties lies with one thing. Pain. Once, bringing pain to others is what gave him his drive. then he discovered that bringing pain onto himself was even better. He hates working for us, which is exactly why he'll keep working for us.

Travis: That makes no sense.

Lichton smiled.

Lichton: A poet is nothing without his suffering.

The End

The Power Pack in "Femme Fatales!"

We find out heroes desperate to find some information on their new enemy, The Agency. Primus has been sitting at the computer for four hours trying to find whatever he can.


Primus: I give up! I can't find a damn thing on them. It's like they don't even exist!

Pillz: Are you sure you are using that search engine right.

Primus: Yes. I've been doing advanced searches and I have used about every single Internet search engine available.

Pero: Did you use the Google?

Primus: Yes. That was the first one I used.

Primus was getting annoyed with their questions. All of his life, people always assumed he never knew what he was doing. He could only take so much of it.

Pillz: Maybe you just aren't looking in the right places.

Primus: That's it! If you think you can do better, by all means, sit down and search! And if you can find anything, I'll be the first to get on my knees and suck the mighty dick of Pillz!

Pillz: Hey! There is no need to get fired up! I'm just trying to help.

Primus: Well, I'm getting a little sick of the "Primus is incompetent" attitude you always have. I have done everything, and that includes even trying to use my powers to bring up something. I have found nothing.

Pillz: Ok, ok. I apologize. We just need to take a break from all of this.

Pero: You have powers Primus?

Primus just stared at him.

Pillz: Ok guys, listen up. The mayor needs us to help him with problem. Seems there is a gang of bank robbers out there.

Primus: Fantastic! We get to take a break from fighting The Agency by fighting bank robbers.

Pillz: As long as there is crime and injustice in the world, crime fighters never get to take vacations.

Primus: How long have you waited to use that in a conversation?

Pillz: A week. I thought it up when I was making plans for a vacation.

Pero: My cousin David has been on vacation for a long time. At least that's where my mother told me he went. He went on vacation right after he showed up at school dressed up as Don Quixote and went around spreading his feces on the wall.

Pillz: Well, we won't be taking that kind of vacation. At least not all of us.

Primus: What are you looking at me for?

Pillz: No reason. Ok, let's back on topic here: The bank robbers.

Primus: Let's just get out there and kick these guy's asses.

Pillz: They are girls.

Primus: What?

Pillz: 3 of them to be exact. Witnesses say that two of them are dressed up as cats and the other one is dressed up in what appears to be a dominatrix costume. The dominatrix appears to be the leader.

Primus: I might have a problem with this.

Pillz: Why?

Primus: Well, they are girls. I can't fight girls.

Pillz: When it comes to evil, there is no gender. And before you ask, I just came up with that.

Primus: I just don't know about this.

Pero: I'll tell you all this, if those hos want to step up to Pero's plate, I'll give them a bitch slapping they won't soon forget.

Pillz: That's the spirit Pero. See, he's got the right attitude.

Primus: Good for him. I'm still not going to be comfortable with this.

Pillz: That's fine. Let's go to the last bank they robbed and look at their security video.

As our heroes go to the bank, let's check out their latest enemies, who are shacked up in the duplex they are renting together.

Radioactive Dude: What in the Sam Hill are all these boxes doing out here.

Evil Gnome: Oh, those must be my new lawn gnomes. Sorry, I should have told you I was expecting a delivery.

Radioactive Dude: Don't worry 'bout it partner.

Evil Gnome: The new gnomes are custom made. I had them designed with machine guns and swords and all sorts of neat gimmicks.

Radioactive Dude: That's good thinking there Gnome. That's the kind of ingenuity that's going to get us ahead. Coming up with new ideas to improve our game.

Dealy Llama: Me and Mrs. have been working on doing just that. Want to see the video?

Radioactive Dude: I think I'll pass. Especially since you've had your missus transformed into a donkey most of the week.

Dealy Llama: We're just trying to reach out to all markets.

Dealy Llama honked his nose and the Mrs. turned into Brad Pitt.

Dealy Llama: See that? That is how we are going to fund this little operation.

Evil Gnome: Let me guess. You are going to film yourself having sex with the Mrs, while she looks like Brad Pitt, and then blackmail him for money not to release the tape.

Dealy Llama looked over at his Mrs and smiled brightly.

Dealy Llama: Blackmail him! That's an even better idea.

Radioactive Dude: Well, I'll leave you to take care of that. In the meantime, we are going to have some guests tonight.

Evil Gnome: Don't tell me The Agency is going to send somebody over.

Radioactive Dude: Not that I'm aware of. No, our gusts are going to be of the female bank robbing variety.

Evil Gnome: Those three women that have been robbing the banks? Why exactly are they coming here?

Radioactive Dude: Well, I happened to be in the area of their last bank robbery and I followed them. After I caught up with them, I introduced myself and offered them our support. They are coming over to discuss a possible alliance.

Evil Gnome: With no offense to the Mrs. over there, it has been my experience that women are not to be trusted.

Radioactive Dude: Then we best keep on our toes. Come on, let's tidy up and have this place looking purty for our new friends.

Meanwhile, our heroes are checking out the surveillance tape.

Primus: Well, you have to hand it to them, they sure are hot.

Pillz: Don't let their sexuality fool you. These women are dangerous. You saw what that one did with the whip.

Primus: I can't even make one simple little comment without you blowing it out of proportion.

Pillz: That's not what I'm doing. I know how your mind works. You have to realize that we are going to fight these women. The last thing this team needs is for you to back down from the fight because you are too busy fantasizing about them.

Primus: I'm still not excited about fighting women. Unlike your mother, mine taught me how to be a gentleman.

Pillz: You are right. Mine taught me that if I was ever in a fight with a woman, I should have paid up front. Let's not have this argument now. We need to study this tape.

Pero: Can I have a copy of it to study in my room tonight?

Pillz comptemplated on exactly what Pero meant by this. Innocent comment or not, it wouldn't hurt to give Pero a copy.

Pillz: Sure Pero. Primus take notes. The leader walks in and begins to sing. Her song seems to put all of the people in the bank in a trance. Except this man, who happens to be deaf. He runs toward the three women. At this point, the one cat dressed as a tiger, hell let's call her Julie Newmar for the time being, thrust her hands out in front of her revealing claws at the tips of each of her fingers. This scares the man and he takes off running in the other direction. The Michelle Pheifer catwoman than takes out her whip and manages to catch the man and ties him up with the whip. The two cats then get the cash while the leader stands guard. Ten minutes in and out. They are pros.

Pero: Maybe they are men dressed up in drag.

Primus: Why would you think that?

Pero: I saw that movie about Julie Newmar.

Pillz: Never mind Pero, these are women. This is going to be just like out first case, Primus. We are going to mark down all the banks they hit on a map and see if we can't find a pattern. If we do, we will stake out the next bank. But first, we need to profile their powers here and develop a defense strategy against them.

Primus: Fine. Let's get to it.

As the heroes were strategizing, the Fucktastic Four were getting ready for their guests.

Radioactive Dude: The Fucktastic Four?

Dealy Llama: Hell yeah! You know damn well we need a name. And that's a name ain't nobody going to forget.

Evil Gnome: It does have a certain ring to it.

Radioactive Dude: Well, if you three are pleased with it, then I reckon it's all right with me as well.

Dealy Llama: Fucktastic! So, when are these bitches supposed to get here?

Radioactive Dude: Should be any minute now. Remember to be ready for anything.

Moments later, there was a knock at the door.

Evil Gnome: I'll get it.

Gnome walked to the door and opened it. The three femme fatales walked in.

Evil Gnome: Hello ladies, let me introduce you to the people in the room. The cowboy over there you all already know is Radioactive Dude. The two couples over there are Dealy Llama and his Mrs. and I am known as Evil Gnome.

Evil Gnome took the hand of the nearest woman and kissed the back of her hand.

The Lady blushed.

The Lady: Well, let me introduce you to us. I am the Sadistic Siren, although you may all call me Saddy. The tigress over here is Purrrrrrr and the black cat here is MED.

The three ladies bowed to their hosts.

Dealy Llama: Well, let's get this fuckin party started!

MED: You certainly do have a mouth on you.

Dealy Llama: Bitch, that ain't the only thing I have on me that'll amaze you.

Saddy started at Llama.

Saddy: You need to watch yourself around us boy.

MED: Oh lighted up Saddy, he's kind of cute.

Radioactive Dude: You'll have to pardon him, mam. His mouth is faster than his mind.

Med: Along with other things I'm sure.

Llama wasn't sure how to take that comment.

Saddy: Anyway, what is the purpose of our little meeting?

Radioactive Dude: The reason that I asked you ladies to visit us is one out of self-preservation. For all of us. As you ladies are now high profiled criminals, it's only a matter of time before you have a run in with the Power Pack.

Purrrrrrr: What? Those 3 little boys? I'm sure we would have no problem dealing with them.

Evil Gnome: With all due respect miss, but we've fought them ourselves and they no how to fight. I'm more than certain that they are not something you can just brush off.

Saddy: That may be, but we have powers of our own that will handle the Power Pack's powers. My singing voice can stop any man. MED is excellent with the whip, and Purrrrrrr can move with the grace of a cat.

Dealy Llama: Those powers suck! "Ooohhh. Look at me, I can use a whip!" Wow, whoopdy-doo! And the reason that men stop when you sing is so they can spare their ears from the god awful sound that comes out of that cock chasm you call a throat. And you, "Miss cat like grace", I don't know how that's possible with hips that big. Hey Mrs, show 'em what a real woman can do.

Dealy Llama honked his nose twice. The Mrs. then turned into a tigress. The three ladies looked on in shock.

Dealy Lama: "Moving with the grace of a cat" don't sound like no hot shit now, doesn't it. I've said before and I'll say it again, the Mrs. is the best pussy around.

Saddy turned to Radioactive Dude.

Saddy: We didn't come here to be mocked by some juvenile clown and his freak wife.

Radioactive Dude: I apologize mam, but Llama doeas have a point. I don't reckon your powers would do much good against the Power Pack.

Saddy: Oh, you don't huh? Well, we'll see about that. If the Power Pack wants to try and stop us, I say let them come. And you'll see how women achieve where men have failed.

And with that, the 3 women left the room.

Evil Gnome: That went well, didn't it.

Radioactive Dude: It went exactly as I hoped it would. Good work, Llama.

Dealy Llama: As always.

Evil Gnome: ok. Mind explaining to me what the hell just went down.

Radioactive Dude: I apologize for keeping you in the dark, but I had to make sure your reactions to Llama's outbursts were genuine. It helped create the illusion that we were being sincere with our hope to team up with them.

Evil Gnome? We weren't being sincere?

Radioactive Dude: No. I want to see how they match up against the Power Pack. But I need them to be prepared. I want them to go at the Power Pack with all they got.

Evil Gnome: You're very serious about studying the Power Pack before we go up against them again, huh.

Radioactive Dude: You're darn right. "Know thy enemy." I take those words to heart.

Dealy Llama: The Mrs. has turned into a bird and is following the girls as we speak.

Radioactive Dude: Good. She'll come back to us when the girls have planned out their next bank heist. And we'll be there to watch and hopefully, the Power Pack will come by and put up a show.

Dealy Llama: I'll bring the popcorn.


Meanwhile...

Purrrrrrr: I have never been so humiliated in my life!

Saddy: Let it go.

MED: Yeah, besides, who are they? I've never knew about them until today. We already have 3 bank robberies under our belt and what do they have? Nothing.

Purrrrrrr: Good point.

Saddy: And it is a good point. They probably wanted to team up with us just so we could do they heavy work and they could pick up on the rewards. Fucking men.

MED: But what was up with that crazy midget bitch?

Saddy: Who knows? Bunch of freaks. Let's get back to the lair and make plans for the next heist.

The three ladies hopped into their car and drove off. The didn't speak to each other on the drive back, as they were each going over the event that had just took place in their minds. None of them liked to be embarrassed by men and each secretly decided to take their frustrations out on the Power Pack if the Pack decided to try to stop them.

One of them did speak however.

Purrrrrrr: My hips aren't that big.

As they drove on, none of them noticed the bird doing it's best to keep up with them.


The next day...

Pillz: No! No! No!

Primus: What am I doing wrong?

Pillz: Everything!

Pillz, Primus, and Pero were now working out in an Rent-A-Gym they referred to as the Practice Pad.

Pillz: What did I tell you? Since you refuse to fight these girls, I need you on defense. And so far, you have not some up with one good defense against this whip I've been cracking at you for the last half hour.

Primus: Maybe you aren't using it right.

Pillz: I know how to use a whip.

Pero: My mother once had a whip. She used it to punish daddy the way he liked. She also used it to punish other men too. Dad was usually at work late when the other men got punished. Mom never used it to punish me though. She had a paddle for that. I remember one time she spanked me for playing with matches. I found them in my dad's desk drawer and decided to light my GI Joes on fire. Snake Eyes was my favorite Joe so I never lit him on fire. When I was 8, I decided not to talk to anybody so I could be more like Snake Eyes. My mom didn't know why I wouldn't talk, because I couldn't tell her, so she took me to see a doctor. He tried to get me to talk but I wouldn't. He said, "Come on kid, I'm desperate." I was young and wasn't paying too much attention to him so I thought he said that he was Destro. That's when I kicked him in the face and ran out of the room. That night the doctor came by to see how I was doing. I decided to talk to him and told him I didn't like Cobra in my house. He laughed and said he wasn't Cobra. He then talked to my mom. He must have been a bad guy anyway cause later that night mom was punishing him with the whip.

Pillz: So, Pero, since you seem to be an expert on the subject; am I using the whip right?

Pero: I don't know. The whip she used had like nine different ends on them.

Pillz: Ok then, never mind.

Primus: Maybe my power only works when I know that there is a real danger to me.

Pillz: Well, there is going to be a real danger, because I'm going to start whipping you for real.

Primus: I don't know what your problem is. When it comes time for us to stop those women, I'll be ready.

Pillz: That's my main concern. I don't think you will.

Primus: Why don't you trust me.

Pillz: It's not that I don't trust you, it's just the fact that I'm not 100% convinced of your ability to come through when we need you the most.

Primus: I have proven myself time and time again.

Pillz: But your reluctance to fight these women is concerning. I need to make sure you are giving your all to stopping our enemies.

Pero: Hey guys, will you stop acting like my parents for one second and look on the TV.

Pero pointed to the little TV they had set up in a corner. On the TV was live coverage of a bank robbery.

Pillz: Great timing.

Pillz turned to Primus.

Pillz: Moment of truth. Are you going to back us up?

Primus: Yes.

Pillz: Good. Let's go.

At the Bank...

MED: Saddy, what are we waiting for? We got the money, let's split.

Saddy: No. We are waiting for the Power Pack to arrive.

Purrrrrrr: Good. It's time to prove ourselves once and for all.

Saddy: Don't forget how we decided to do this. I subdue them and then you two have your way with them.

MED: I always like your plans.

The Power Pack arrived.

Pillz: Ok ladies, your fun time is over. Come out with your hands up and surrender peacefully.

Saddy: I'm coming out with my hands up.

Saddy walked out, hands in the air. She began to sing.

Pillz was too fast for her. A green light shout out of his ring and formed a rope. Which then wrapped itself around Saddy's head, covering her mouth.

Saddy struggled to remove it, but could not manage to get it off.

MED and Purrrrrr moved outside to attack.

MED went after Pero with the whip.

MED: You've been a bad boy. It's time for your punishment.

MED cracked her whip at Pero.

Pero's mind flashed back to all the men who let out those moans of pain when his mother punished them. Pero began to shake.

MED: Awww. The little boy is shaking in his shoes.

Pero hulked out.

PeroHulk: You no hurt Pero. Pero no like whip!

Pero chased after MED, who took off running.

Purrrrrrr had decided to confront Primus.

Purrrrrrr: Good. I get to take on the cute one.

Primus: You think I'm cute?

Purrrrrrr: You bet. So, is that your superpower in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

Primus looked away, his cheeks were flushed.

Purrrrrrr: What's the matter? Never been this close to a woman before?

Primus: I've been close to plenty. My sister and I used to share the same bed.

Purrrrrrr just laughed at this.

Purrrrrrr: And they said this was going to be tough.

Primus: Who's they?

Purrrrrrr: We met these guys over at this Duplex on 23rd....

Purrrrrrr stopped when she saw PeroHulk chasing after MED.

Purrrrrrr: Hold that thought cutie, I'll be right back.

Purrrrrrr ran over and lept on PeroHulk's back. She began clawing at him. PeroHulk tried to grab at her, but he couldn't reach her. MED began to whip him from the front.

Pillz saw this happening.

Pillz: Primus, help Pero out!

Primus: You help him out!

Pillz: I can't. I need to keep this one's mouth shut.

Primus: I don't know what to do!

Pillz: Damn it!

Pillz let go of Saddy and aimed his ring at Purrrrrrr. He managed to get her off of PeroHulk's back, but then Saddy began to sing.

Pillzs and Pero were frozen in their spots. Primus was not affected.

Primus: My power is drowning out her singing. I can't hear it.

MED: sothis one is immune huh. Saddy, you keep on singing your song. We'll deal with this one.

MED cracked her whip at him. Primus caught it with his hands and pulled it away from her.

MED: Ho did you? No one can? What the hell?

Purrrrrrr: I knew there was something special about this cutie. I'll handle him.

Purrrrrrr ran ar Primus at full speed. Primus' hand flew out, shooting the whip out at full speed. The whip found it's way around Purrrrrrr's legs and brought her to the ground.

Purrrrrrr: That's impossible! No one can catch me like that.

Primus: it's easy when you have hips that big.

Purrrrrrr began to cry.

Saddy stopped singing.

Pillz immediatly captured her with his power ring. PeroHulk picked up both MED and Purrrrrr.

A few minutes later, the police arived to take the women into custody.

Primus: See, I told you I would come through. I saved both of your guy's bacon.

Pillz stared quietly at Primus.

Primus: What?

Pillz: I am dissapointed in you.

Primus was hurt to hear this.

Primus: What do you mean. I stopped them, didn't I? I saved both of you from her singing.

Pillz: That never should have happened. If you had helped PeroHulk like I told you to, she never would have had the opportunity to sing in the first place.

Primus: You are never pleased are you? You always have to bring out the negative in a situation.

Pillz: No. I always bring up what went wrong in the situation.

Primus: No. You're right. I'm sorry Pillz, you have my word that this will never happen again.

Pillz: I would hope so. But I honestly have to tell you, I have my doubts.

Primus: This is one promise I'll keep.


An Hour Later...

Radioactive Dude: Well, I'll hang my hat up and say that that was a complete success.

Dealy Llama: That was the most fucking boring 10 minutes of my life.

Evil Gnome: I thought it was very educational myself.

Radioactive Dude: And it was. Dissension among the ranks. That will be the Power Pack's downfall.


Voice At The Door: You have no idea.

The four villains turned to see who had spoken. They were shocked to see who it was.

Radioactive Dude: Well, I'll be. What brings you to these parts?

Primus: I want to join up with you guys.


TO BE CONTINUED

One Month

DAY 29

Satyr: And I have no doubt you are going to blame me for this. After all, that is your favorite past time.

Gweg: Actually, I am kind of to blame for this too.

Satyr: What? Really?

Gweg: Yes, but I'd rather not talk about it.

Satyr and Gweg had now backed themselves into a corner. They were standing at the very end of the basketball court. A wall to a building was behind them, another wall to the left of them, and a giant fence to the right of them.

The 20 or so figures were blocking their only exit.

Gweg: How long until sunrise? A little daylight could help us out here.

Satyr: It's only 11PM so we got seven more hours, but trust me, daylight don't do shit.

Gweg: What? I thought...

Satyr: Trust me. Besides. I think we might be safe until help arrives. After all, they are just standing there, staring into space. They might do that until morning. Hell, there is a good chance that we could climb that fence and they wouldn't know it.

Gweg heard one of them make a noise.

Gweg: What was that? What did he do?

Satyr: It's ok. That's just the noises they make.

Gweg: It kind of creeps me out.

Satyr: It's ok. Let's just move over to the fence.

Gweg and Satyr slowly made their way over to the fence. The figures did not move, as Satyr predicted.

Satyr and Gweg latched onto the fence and began to climb.

Satyr: I just hope this plan works, because all of my other plans this month have failed miserably.

Gweg: I don't see how that is surprising.

Satyr: My plans were fool proof. I still don't know how that first one got me jail.


DAY 3

Officer Larson: You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be held against you. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.

Satyr: What is this shit? What did I do?

Officer Larson handcuffed Satyr and put him in the back of the squad car. 20 minutes alter, they arrived at the police station. Satyr was led to the interrogation room, where a detective was waiting for him.

Detective Watterson: You sick fuck.

Satyr: What is this all about?

Det. Watterson: I don't even want to get into the details. I felt sick enough after seeing the pics. Here, why don't you look at them?

Watterson threw five pics on the table. Satyr looked them over, wide eyed.

Satyr: Where did you get these?

Det. Watterson: That doesn't matter. Fact is: we got them. You are going away for a long time for this, punk.

Satyr: I'm not guilty.

Watterson simply pointed at the photos. Satyr shook his head.

Satyr: I have the right to a speedy trial. I'll be back on the streets within a week.

Det. Watterson: With this evidence, I can get you a trial tomorrow. You'll be in jail for the rest of your life. Unless you got a very good lawyer, which sick twisted fucks like you usually have.

Satyr: I do have a good lawyer, he's the best.

Det. Watterson: Who's that?

Satyr: I represent myself.

Det. Watterson: A fool for a client.

Satyr: You watch, nothing bad will happen from me representing myself.

DAY 11

Gweg was sitting a home, still coming to grips with what Satyr had just pulled. Gweg couldn't believe Satyr would go that far to get himself out of prison. He thought that even Satyr would have knew better than to go that route.

Just as Gweg was getting ready to get on the computer to make sure Satyr didn't completely fuck himself, there was a knock on the door.

Gweg looked towards the sky and shook his head.

Gweg: You better have a fucking mansion waiting for me up there.

Gweg opened the door. He saw a dark haired, skinny, light skinned older teenager standing before him.

The Teen: Is Satyr here?

Gweg: Let me guess, you are on of his friends from the Internet.

The teen gave Gweg a weird sort of smile.

The Teen: Yeah, let's go with that. Is he here?

Gweg: No, he's out.

The Teen: I'll just wait for him here.

The teen moved past Gweg and plopped himself down on the couch.

The Teen: Got anything to drink? I know you won't have what I'm really thirsty for, but anything cold would be fine.

Gweg couldn't believe the audacity of Satyr's friend. But Gweg was tired of all these confrontations and brought the kid a Dr. Pepper.

Gweg: I didn't catch your name.

The Teen: Call me Sekiath.

Gweg: Sekiath. Can I get you anything else? Make you a sandwich, rub your back, throw you out the window?

Sekiath chuckled and pointed at Gweg

Sekiath: Yeah, I was warned about you. No, I appreciate the drink, thank you. Satyr go out often?

Gweg: Yeah, he does. He stays in one place for too long, it starts to deteriorate.

Sekiath shook his head and took a drink.

Gweg: I don't know when he'll be back, so it'd be best if you went home and I'll let him know you came by.

Sekiath shrugged.

Sekiath: Nah, I've got nothing better to do. I can wait.

The phone rang. Gweg answered it.

Gweg: Hello. Figures. Yeah, I never do. Listen, one of your friends is here. Sekiath. Ok, I'll let him know.

Gweg hung the phone up and spoke to Sekiath.

Gweg: That was Satyr, it looks like he's going to be out all night.

Sekiath took a drink.

Sekiath: That's fine. I can crash here for the night.

Gweg: I would be more comfortable if you didn't.

Sekiath: It'll be fine Gweg. I'll sleep here on the couch. It's not like I'll come into your room or bite you or anything.

Sekiath gave out a chuckle. And he could see the worried look on Gweg's face.

Sekiath: Hey man, Satyr would be down with me sleeping here, and it is half of his apartment, right?

Gweg: Fine. Just don't make too much noise, a mess, and don't empty the fridge.

Sekiath: It'll be like I'm not even here.

Gweg: I wish it were.

DAY 5

Guard: You are in this cell right here.

The guard threw Satyr into the jail cell.

Satyr: Come on! That was not a fair trial at all! I don't belong here!

Guard: Save it for someone who cares.

Satyr: Fucking, goddamn, piece of cocksucking, motherfucking, worm licking , jew nailing, shit fingering, asshole looting, sons of bitches!

Satyr held onto the bars, steaming, giving the evil eye at the guard. He then heard a voice behind him.

Cellmate: Could you keep it down?

Satyr spun around and saw a huge muscular black man laying on a bunk and reading a book.

Satyr: Well, this figures. This just fucking figures. I get locked in with Bubba. Listen, if you are going to ass rape, do us both a favor and lube it up.

Bubba: My name is not Bubba. It's Maurice. And I'm not going to ass rape you.

Satyr: Well, thank Pan for small favors. But that trial I just had was not in the least bit fair. A jury of my peers. Jury of incompetent idiots is more like it.

Maurice: What happened?

Satyr: Listen to this.

Day 4

Prosecutor: And Detective Watterson, do you know who took these pictures?

Det. Watterson: No they were sent to us from an anonymous person. We have not been able to track this person down.

Prosecutor: And is there any evidence that these photos were doctored in any way?

Det. Watterson: No. We had the photos analyzed and they came back clean. These photos are originals.

Prosecutor: And who is the person in the photos?

Det. Watterson: The defendant.

Prosecutor: Thank you Detective, that will be all.

Judge: Mr. Satyr, you may now question the witness.

Satyr: Thanks, Judge. Ok, "Detective".

Det. Watterson: You don't need to be sarcastic when you say that.

Satyr: Oh, I'm sorry, have I asked you a question yet. Did I give you permission to speak?

Judge: The Detective will wait for a question and the defendant will not speak to him in a sarcastic manner.

Satyr flashed the detective a shit-eating grin.

Satyr: You know something, Detective, I look at these photos and can't help but think, "Hmm. I can't see that persons face to well." How about you?

Det. Watterson: I can see the face just fine.

Satyr: Can you? But how do you know it's not a mask?

Prosecutor: Objection your Honor.

Judge: Overruled.

Satyr: Thank you. Well, how do you know?

Det. Watterson: We blew up the photos and it's quite obvious it's you. And It's quite obvious from the different facial expressions in the photos that it is not a mask.

Satyr: That may be. But how are we sure that it isn't a shape-shifter pretending to be me?

Prosecutor: Objection! That's just ridiculous.

Judge: I agree.

Satyr: Fine. Tell me Watts, are you 100% sure that that is me in the picture?

Det. Watterson: Yes.

Satyr became irate.

Satyr: Permission to treat this witness as hostile?

Judge: If you feel that that is absolutely necessary.

Satyr: Oh, I do. Tell me this, Detective! Do you know where liars go when they die?

Prosecutor: Objection!

Judge: Mr. Satyr, that is enough.

Satyr: I withdraw the question and I have no further questions for this so called witness.

Judge: You may step down Detective. Does the State have any more witnesses to call?

Prosecutor: No, the Prosecution rests.

Judge: Mr. Satyr: You may call your first witness.

Satyr: I have no one to call your honor. My defence will be in my closing argument.

Judge: Have it your way. We will take a 30 minute recess and come back and have closing arguments.

Half an hour later.

Prosecutor: We have the pictures. It is clearly the defendant doing this nasty deed. We have no reason to believe other wise.

Satyr got up to deliver his arguments to the jury.

Satyr: What do these pics tell us? Nothing? There is an endless amount of possibilities for those photos looking like they are. But that is not me. I would never do anything like that. Look at me. Is this not a trustworthy face?

Judge: The jury will now begin their deliberations.


10 minutes later.

Foreman: We the jury, in a unanimous decision, find the defendant guilty on all charges.

Satyr: Oh that is such bullshit.

Judge: Thank you Jury. The Bailiff will put Mr. Satyr into custody and we will have sentencing tomorrow.

DAY 6

Satyr: I just don't know if I should.

Maurice: Well, if it works.

Satyr: Yeah, but this guy comes with a price.

Maurice: You said you were loaded.

Satyr: I am. I got money up the yin-yang, but this guy isn't about money.

Maurice: Oh, that type. There are plenty of guys here who can help you ready yourself for that kind of sacrifice.

Satyr: No, not that either. This guy has certain rules about how things are done. But I don't know what. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. What do you suggest?

Maurice: If I knew how to get in contact with this guy, I would do it.

Satyr: Yeah, I should. Gweg won't be happy if I do. But oh well, I deal with him when the time comes.

DAY 10

Gweg: You hired who?!?!

Gweg became irate when Satyr told him who it was who got him out of jail.

Gweg: What were you thinking? You know better than that. What is he going to do?

Satyr: He's not going to do anything, I have to do it.

Gweg: Do what? What is it? You better get out of this mess clean.

Satyr: Come on Gweg, haven't I always cleaned up my own messes?

Gweg: No. No you haven't. And this. With him! Oh lord, this will not turn out pretty.

Satyr: Lighten up. Did I get any mail while I was out?

Gweg: Yeah you got one letter. It came today. It's there on the table.

Satyr picked it up and opened it. He read it out loud.

Satyr: "Dear fucking asshole. We want to speak with you about our son. Meet us at our house. Tell whomever you want so you won't be scared. We just want to talk to you. Our address is on the envelope."

Gweg: The hole just keeps getting deeper.

Satyr: That's enough out of you. I wonder what they want.

Day 11

Satyr knocked on the door of the house. The father answered the door.

The Father: Come in.

Satyr entered the living room. The mother was sitting in a chair, looking at Satyr with grim intent.

The father motioned towards the couch.

The Father: Have a seat.

The Mother: You piece of shit.

Satyr: Nice to meet you.

The Father: The reason we have asked you to come here, is that we were disappointed with the new verdict you somehow received.

Satyr: You should be glad to know the system works.

The Father: Shut up. We wanted to talk to you face to face. We want you to know that we will dedicate our lives to making sure yours is a personal hell.

Satyr: Yeah. That sounds good and all, but I don't buy it for one second.

The Mother: What do you mean you piece of shit?

Satyr: Feel free to call me any other expletive, I don't mind. But, I don't believe you have what it takes to make my life hell for the rest of yours.

The Father: I'm a telemarketer.

Satyr nearly jumped out of his seat.

Satyr: Listen, maybe we can work something out.

The Mother. No fucker, there is nothing to work out. What you did is unforgivable.

Satyr: It's not like the kid saw anything.

The Father: Now, let's give him a chance, he might be able to provide us with something. But I won't let you leave until we are satisfied.

Satyr: That's fine. Just let me call my roommate.

The Father: That's fine. Here's the phone.

Satyr: Yeah, Gweg, it's me. Don't expect me home tonight. That's funny. Oh yeah, who? Oh..him. Ok, let him know I'll talk with him tomorrow.

Satyr handed the phone back to the father.

Satyr: Now, to help you guys out. What if I were to..cure your kids blindness.

The Father: What?

Satyr: Yeah. Get this. I know people. People that could help with that problem. You let me get in touch with them, and I'll have your kid seeing what ugly parents he has by the end of this month.

The Mother: You are a rotten son of a bitch.

Satyr: Just calling it like I see it.

Satyr turned to the father.

Satyr: I can see why you married her. She's so full of rich conversation.

The Father: Don't get smart. You have six days to do as you promised. Or we shall do as we promised.

Satyr: Fine.

The Mother: I was so glad to hear you got put in the prison infirmary. I'd like to shake the hand of the man who did it.

Satyr laughed. No you wouldn't. It was my lawyer.

Satyr laughed again at the woman's shocked face and left the house.

DAY 8

Satyr was laying down on the infirmary bed. Gweg was standing next to him.

Gweg: You got beat up by your lawyer?

Satyr: Don't worry about that now. We patched things up I need to talk to you.

Gweg: That's why I'm here. It sure as hell isn't to make sure you are doing ok.

Satyr: You are not a good friend at all.

Gweg: Never once did I claim to be.

Satyr: Asshole. Anyway, I noticed in the paper you already have an ad out looking for a new roommate.

Gweg: I have that ad in there everyday.

Satyr: Don't even think about it. I have a new today and I'll be out of here tomorrow. And that apartment better be they way it was when I got here.

Gweg: Well, I won't make any promises.

Satyr: Fine. Just leave me be. I need to be fresh for my new trial.

DAY 13

Satyr: You know what, I'm glad you are here.

Sekiath: That's not something I'm used to hearing.

Satyr: I don't doubt that. Listen. This problem you have and the problem I have can be dealt with simultaneously.

Sekiath: How do you figure?

Satyr: I take you to the blind kid. You do your thing. And that might be able to cure him of his blindness. And if it works, you can work on all the blind kids of the world.

Sekiath: Perhaps. I don't know how accurate that could be. I know you've probably read books, but most of them are wrong about the subject.

Satyr: Well, that's a risk I have to take. I can't deal with kid in an orthodox way.

Sekiath: When should we do it?

Satyr: Tonight. And we have to do it exactly as planned. I mean this kid got me in jail once already. And I don't want to deal with him or a lawyer again.

Sekiath: I don't think you could if you wanted to. The rules are particular.

Satyr: I know that all too well.

DAY 7

Satyr: I've decided to do it, Maurice. I'm going to get that lawyer.

Maurice: Good. I'm glad you are going to take this opportunity.

Satyr: Yeah. Now, just to get into contact with him. Let's see what the paper says.

Satyr unscrolled a paper and read over it.

Satyr: Hmm. Maurice, are you a Muslim?

Maurice: Yes. Yes I am.

Satyr: Perfect.

Satyr reached under him mattress and pulled out a shiv. He then stabbed Maurice in the neck with it.

Satyr: Sorry Maurice. But it was your idea.

Satyr then drew a pentagram like symbol onto the floor with Maurice's blood.

Smoke began to rise from the drawing.

In the smoke, the form of a man appeared. A voice boomed out.

Voice: BEHOLD! YOU HAVE CALLED FORTH THE LORD OF THE 19TH NETHERWORLD! YOU HAVE CALLED FORTH THE DARK LORD ZEXOTELLIAN!

Satyr: 19th? What the hell happened to the 7th?

Zexotellian: YOU!

Zexotellian ran towards Satyr and began to pummel him.

Satyr spoke between the punches.

Satyr: You can't kill me, it's against your rules.

Zexotellian: There is nothing in the rule book about me kicking your ass.

Zexotellian beat the shit out of Satyr. Zexotellian got up and smoothed out his suit.

Zexotellian: Well, that felt damn good. Your little trick got the last time got me knocked down all the way to the 19th fucking Netherworld. There I was, one of the best Dark Lords the Nether Judges have ever seen and being spoken to like I was some Nether Bitch. All because of you. And now you have the gall to call me up asking for a favor? Word must travel around fast. "Hey Satyr, did you hear Zexotellian was nothing more than a broken house pet. Yeah, wave a paper at him, he'll tuck his tail under him and cover his nose." I got news for you, you anthropomorphic dick wad, I am not some Dark Lord you got on a leash. Whatever favor you want, I guarantee you will pay for for. Because if you don't pay, you'll die. So personally, I am kind of hoping you don't come through.

Satyr: How do you know you'll come through?

Zexotellian: How? What is that? Are you being serious? No wait, I know, you want to a second serving of the ass kicking I just delivered. Good news satyr, ass kicking is not only on the menu, it's on the all you can eat buffet!

Satyr: Are you sure you are not the Dark Lord of the Nether Lame? I need you to get me a new trial and get me out of jail.

Zexotellian: You honestly believe that is a challenge? Please. You saw Michael Jackson's trial? Yeah, I didn't even brake a sweat. You are talking to the Dark Lord Zexotellian here. As soon as I'm done getting you out of here, I've got one hell of a task for you.

Satyr: What is it?

Zexotellian: I'll let you know after you get released.


DAYS 15 & 16

Satyr and Sekiath were at the parents house.

The Father: What you two did to our son was an unholy sin and I will make you hell demons burn.

Satyr: Just because I look the part doesn't mean I'm from hell.

Sekiath: Yeah. That is a bit biased.

The Mother: My son!!! MY SON!!!

Satyr: Will you calm that bitch down?

The father punched Satyr.

Sekiath: Sir, there is no need for violence here.

The Father: I had to kill my own son. When I saw what you did to him...I can't speak of such evil.

Satyr: At least we cured his blindness.

The Father: No you did not. He still was blind!

The Mother: AWWWWW MY SON!!!

Satyr: You know, Scrabble will help build your vocabulary.

The Father: She is upset. She saw what you did to our son, not to mention what our son was doing to our cat.

Sekiath: I don't understand how he remained blind. It should have been fixed.

The Father: That's what happens when evil is involved. God help me, I will destroy you both.

Satyr: You'll have to cacth us first.

Satyr and Sekiath took off running.

The Father screamed out after them.

The Father: God is on my side! We will hunt you down and you will burn!

Later that night.

Sekiath: Well, it's more your problem than it is mine.

Satyr: You are the reason this happened. I did it to help you out.

Sekiath: Yeah, but I'm not exactly accountable for anything you do.

Satyr: Just help me take care of this. I can have it handled tomorrow.

Sekiath: What do you have in mind?

Satyr: We call the cops.

The next day.

The Father was sitting in the police station's interrogation room.

Det. Watterson: Where is your son?

The Father: I told you, the satyr took him.

Det. Watterson: I would be more than happy to believe that. But we checked him out. He has an airtight alibi and there is no evidence anywhere that he kidnapped your child.

The Father: Fine. I'll tell you what really happened.

The father then told Det. Watterson the story.

Det. Watterson: You expect me to believe all that.

The Father: Yes, because it's true!

Det. Watterson: Well, I can't. This world just keeps getting sicker. Blind kids not safe in public or in their own homes. Get this creep out of my face. No wonder your wife committed suicide this morning.

The Father: I didn't do anything!

One of the cops took the father to a jail cell.

Det. Watterson: Fucked up world.

DAY 9

Foreman: We the jury find the Defendant, "Not Guilty".

Judge: Thank you jury, you are free to go, as is the defendant.

Satyr shook Zexotellian's hand.

Satyr: Thank you Zex.

Zexotellian: Oh, don't be thanking yet. Now we will discuss the matter of your payment.

Satyr: If you are going to ass rape me, please use some lube.

Zexotellian: I am not going to ass rape you. I need you to help out my son.

Satyr: You have a son?

Zexotellian: Why are you surprised? I'm Zexotellian. One of the top Dark Lords of the Netherworlds. I have to fight the ladies off with a stick. Except for one lucky one who caught my eye and is now proud to be my wife.

Satyr: Yeah, listen: I don't want to have to deal with your hellspawn ok? I can help you in another way.

Zexotellian: Oh? My curiosity is dying to feed on this.

Satyr: Gweg told me all about your goth problem. What you need is a complete image makeover. I mean, come on, you look like a reject from a Panic! At The Disco music video. What we want to do is get rid of that, give you the sexy rugged look, and promote the hell out of you. GQ articles titled "The Joy Of Zex". Ads for kids that sound like the old Nickelodeon jingle. Ah Zex Zex Zex, Zex Zex Zex, ZEXOTELLIAN, Yeah!

Zexotellian did nothing but stare at Satyr.

Satyr: I can see my brilliance has stunned you.

Zexotellian: No. I was doing my best not to kill you. Look, I'm Zexotellian, I don't need an image makeover. But, I do need to protect my image. And my son is spending time here on this realm and I need you to make sure he doesn't cause too much trouble with his problem.

Satyr: You want me to babysit your kid?

Zexotellian: No. I want you to come up with a reasonable solution to his problem. And you have 'till the end of the month to do it, or else I kill you.

Satyr: The end of the month? That's bullshit.

Zexotellian: Read the rules. I can set the deadline. The end of the month. My son will come to your apartment. His name is Sekiath.

DAY 25

Zexotellian and Gweg were standing in the apartment. Zex shook Gweg's hand.

Zexotellian: Good work Gweg. The website is a hot and the article is a success.

Gweg: Some of my best writing ever.

Zexotellian: I'll say. Well, congrats. And, you are off the hook. You don't have to worry about facing my revenge.

Gweg: That's a load off.

Zexotellian then disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Gweg read over the article he wrote one last time.

When Gweg was writing, he had some notes from Zexotellian. Little tidbits that Zex wanted to make sure Gweg included.

Gweg got stuck on one line as he read it.

"Zexotellian is a wonderful husband and a loving father."

Gweg wondered.

Was the arrival of Sekiath and Zexotellian a coincidence? Satyr did act strange about Sekiath. Could it be? Are they related?

Deep down inside, Gweg knew they were.

DAY 14

Satyr: Gweg, I'm home.

Satyr spent most of the day trying to buy eyeballs on the black market. He found none.

Gweg: It's about damn time. Your friend decided the couch was too uncomfortable and went to sleep on your bend.

Satyr peered down the hall.

Satyr: Tell me something, this kid doesn't look weird, does he?

Gweg: No. He looks like a regular teen. I thought you knew him.

Satyr: Yeah. Nevermind.

Satyr went to his room.

Satyr: Hey, wake up.

Sekiath woke up.

Satyr: You must be Sekiath.

Sekiath: That I am.

Satyr: Yeah, your dad told me I was to help you.

Sekiath: Yeah. Dad wants this my problem dealt with discreetly.

Sekiath explained the problem to Satyr.

Satyr: That's one hell of a problem. Listen. I need some sleep before I tackle this. I haven't gotten any for a while. Here, take some cash and go have a night on the town. But don't do anything stupid.

Sekiath: Don't worry. I've lasted this long without getting caught.

Sekiath took some cash and left. Satyr went to sleep.


Gweg saw Sekiath leave.

Gweg began to watch TV.

The floor in front of the TV began to smoke. The smoke became taller and a figure appeared in the smoke.

Gweg: Oh for fuck's sake.

Zexotellian: BEHOLD! FOR I AM THE DARK LORD OF THE 19TH NETHERWORLD! I AM...

Gweg: I know who you are, Zexotellian.

Zexotellian stepped out of the smoke.

Zexotellian: Hello Gweg. You should no, that it is taking everything I have not to lash out at you and eviscerate you all over this room.

Gweg: I take it you're still upset.

Zexotellian: Upset? Bah! Upset doesn't even begin to cover it. What a laughingstock I became when you tricked me. Demoted down 12 whole levels! And now, I come here to make a deal.

Gweg: What?

Zexotellian: I have all the time in the world to get my revenge on you. But for some reason, it seems petty. No. I'd rather put this mess behind me and move on. But, I am willing to extract revenge if that what it comes down to. But you see, your dear friend the satyr revealed something to me. I do have an image problem. Too many goths, as you know, make up my market. I need to be more mainstream, and I want you to help.

Gweg: What can I do?

Zexotellian: I hear that you are a journalist. I want you to write out a new description of me for my website, I want you to publish an article about me in the New York Times.

Gweg: I've never been published in the New York Times.

Zexotellian: I will arrange it. Do we have an agreement? You write for me and make me look better and I will dissolve my hatred of you.

Gweg: Fine, it's a deal.

DAY 17

Gweg and Zexotellian were at the computer.

Gweg: I don;t know why you had me lie to the cops to cover Satyr's alibi.

Zexotellian: I need him out of jail for the work he is doing for me.

Gweg: Ok. Here. Read your Welcoming Page.

Zexotellian read over what Gweg had wrote for his website.

"Welcome Friends! This is the Brand New Website for your favorite Man in all of the Netherwolrds, Lord Zexotellian! Zexotellian has been a Lord for many centuries now and he has helped many a persons with their problems. You need some help, the Sexy Lord Zexotellian will be ,more than Happy to serve you. For A Price! But come on, nothing is free anymore, now is it? So, just click the links below and you'll be satisfied in no time."

Gweg: As you can see, I took away all of the "Dark" references.

Zexotellian: Good work. Now, about the article. I want it perfect.

Gweg: You'll have to give me a few days. By the twentieth at least.

Zexotellian: Fine.

DAYS 18-23

Nothing much happened on these days. Gweg wrote and edited the article. Zexotellian got it published. Satyr and Sekiath worked on the problem at hand.

Day 24

Satyr: I got it!

Sekiath: Took long enough.

Satyr: Autistic kids!

Sekiath: What are you talking about?

Satyr: No. Think about it. What you do doesn't really change that much.

Sekiath: Well....

Satyr: Autistic kids would be perfect.

Sekiath: Ok. Let's try it.

Days 26-27

Satyr and Sekiath tracked down kids with autism.

DAY 28

Satyr and Sekiath leave the house they just broke into.

Sekiath: I think this was a good idea.

Satyr: Ha ha. Yes it was. One of many.

Sekiath: How many is that now?

Satyr: 20 I think.

Satyr: All right. Let's head back to my house and we'll give your father the good news.

A little later, Sekiath and Satyr arrived at the apartment.

Gweg was sitting on the couch.

Gweg: About time you get home. I need to have a talk with you.

Satyr: Later Gweg. Me and Sekiath are just finishing up.

Sekiath: Yeah. Let me call my dad.

Sekiath took out a cell phone.

Sekiath: Hey dad. Yeah, it's done. Ok, I'll let him know.

Sekiath put the phone away and turned to Satyr.

Sekiath: Hey, Satyr. Dad says to meet him at the basketball court on 19th street tomorrow.

Satyr: Fine.

Sekiath: Peace out bros.

Sekiath left.

Gweg: I know what's up.

Satyr: The sky Gweg?

Gweg: No. I know that Sekiath is Zexotellian's son.

Satyr: So what?

Gweg: He wants to meet you at a basketball court on 19th street. Why?

Satyr: I don't know why. I don't go around trying to figure out what going on in the mind of a Dark Lord. Or should I say a "Sexy Lord" as you have described him.

Gweg: How do you know about that?

Satyr: My good friend is an Internet nerd, you know. I had him keeping me updated on any changes on Zexotellian's website. Just in case.

Gweg: I did it to get Zex off my back. But I still don't trust him. I'm going with you to the basketball court tomorrow.

Satyr: Fine. Speaking of Cyber, I need to thank him for getting me into this whole mess in the first place.

DAY 1

Satyr had a problem. And not a very good problem. This particular problem has been bothering him for weeks now.

He had the uncontrollable urge to expose himself to a child.

Satyr didn't know why he had this problem, but he knew he had to take care of it. Or else it would destroy him.

Satyr called the one person he could trust.

Cyber Centaur.

Satyr: Hey Cy-baby. What's going on.

Cyber: I'm just selling my WoW gold on eBay.

Satyr: You might as well sell your dick on there too.

Cyber: All ready tried that. They took the auction down.

Satyr: Yeah. Speaking of dicks, I want to flash mine in front of a kid.

Cyber: I think I'll hang up now.

Satyr: No wait. I need your help with this. How do I do this without getting caught?

Cyber: I don't know. Does the kid actually need to see your goods?

Satyr thought it over.

Satyr: No. I just need to flash myself in front of him. He doesn't actually have to see anything.

Cyber: Ok. Do it in front of a blind kid.

Satyr: That's a good idea. Yeah. I think that will work.

Day 29

Gweg: Why is he meeting you at 10:30 PM in a dark basketball court?

Gweg and Satyr were standing in the middle of the basketball court waiting for Zexotellian to show up.

Satyr: He likes the dark.

Gweg: This is making me nervous.

Suddenly, smoke began to rise out of the basket ball court.

Zexotellian: BEHOLD! FOR I AM...AH FUCK IT!

Zexotellian and Sekiath stepped out of the smoke.

Zexotellian: Good, I'm glad to see you here Gweg. I knew you wouldn't fail me there.

Gweg: I'm here to make sure you don't pull any tricks.

Zexotellian: Then you are going to fail. You see, I didn't become a major player in the Netherworlds because of my good looks. No. It's all about ingenuity. And I have that stuff leaking out of my pores.

Zexotellian let out a laugh. Sekiath smiled brightly, showing his fangs.

Zexotellian: When your buddy, the satyr here, called me up, asking for my help, I saw the perfect opportunity for revenge. Ironic revenge. For you see, my son is a vampire and I had Satyr go out and help my son discover some the perfect cattle for my son to feat on, not knowing that my son has the power to summon whatever vampires he creates to his location. And now, my son will summon the creatures here and they will feast on the two of you. That's right Satyr, the very vamps you helped create will now destroy you!

Sekiath's smile dissappeared.

Sekiath: Uh dad. You never told me about that part.

Zexotellian: Quiet! Summon your minions! Zexotellian will have his revenge. And all of the Netherworld will be buzzing about how I extracted the perfect revenge.

Sekiath: But dad...

Zexotellian DO IT!

Sekiath shrugged and began to move his arms about wildly,

Kids began to pop up all around Zexotellian and Sekiath.

Zexotellian looked all around the vampire children.

Zexotellian: Ah. My grandchildren. Since I am your master's father, I too am your master! Now heed me and attack those two.

Zexotellian pointed at Satyr and Gweg.

The vampires just stared at Zexotellian's hand.

Zexotellian: I command you! Attack.

Several of the vamps began to cover their ears. Other just looked around. One of them began to line up basketballs into a row.

Zexotellian: What is wrong with them? Are they retarded?

Sekiath: I tried to tell you. They are autistic.

Zexotellian: You fed off of autistic kids?

Sekiath: It was Satyr's idea.

Zexotellian glared at Satyr.

Zexotellian: You fool! Is kids with disabilities your answer to everything?

Satyr: Pretty much.

Zexotellian: My plan. My beautiful plan of revenge. You have defeated me for the last time Satyr! I will have my revenge! As for this. (Zexotellian waved his arms around the autistic vamps.) I'll leave you to clean this up.

Zexotellian and Sekiath vanished.

Gweg and Satyr slowly backed away from the vamps.

DAY 30

Satyr and Gweg were still standing on the outside of the fence.

Gweg: What time is it?

Satyr: It's only 1 am.

Gweg: They haven't left.

Satyr: Like I said, they'll stick there until morning.

Gweg: How are we going to get rid of them?

Satyr: I don't know.

Behind them, an unmarked police car pulled up. Out of it stepped Det. Watterson.

Det. Watterson: Satyr! What are you doing to those kids?

Satyr: Oh for Pan's sake. I ain't doing nothing Watts! We just came across them.

Gweg nodded.

Det. Watterson: Just came across them huh? A pederast just happened to come across a bunch of kids standing in the middle of a basketball court in the middle of the night. Is that what I'm expected to believe?

Satyr: Yeah. Sounds plausible to me.

Det. Watterson: Save it perv. I'm going to find out what you did to these kids.

Watterson went up to one of the kids.

Det. Watterson: Excuse me boy. Did that goat man do anything he shouldn't have to you?

The kid just stared at him.

Det. Watterson: What wrong with all these kids? These must be the missing autistic kids that just went out on the APB.

Satyr: Yep. And I found them. Do I get a reward?

Det. Watterson: Fuck no. Pervert. You get diddly-squat. No. Let me rephrase that. You'll get my size 14 stuck up your ass. Hear me out Satyr, I'm onto you. I going to be on you 24/7. You'll keep looking over shoulder, oh you won't see me, but you'll know I'm there.

Det. Watterson got on his radio.

Det. Watterson: Yeah. It's Watterson. I got the kids here. (He counted the heads of the kids). Yeah. All twenty. Ok. I'll wait with them.

Gweg: Uh, Detective, there is something you should know about the kids.

Det. Watterson: Quiet faggot. Yeah. I'm onto you too. I'm trained to notice things. And cover each other's asses is the only thing you two do together. Now, get out of my sight. And if I ever see either of you around another kid...there won;t need to be a trial, just a funeral.

Satyr: Thanks Watts. Can you use your powers of detection to figure out which finger I'm going to hold up?

Gweg: Let's just go.


Later, that day at the apartment.

Satyr: Watts got all the autistic kids back in their homes.

Gweg: Don;t they realize that they are vampires?

Satyr: Nope. They will eventually though. They have to. But, not our problem.

Gweg: Yeah. We got the same problem and a new one.

Satyr: Fucking Watts. Fucking Zex. And the fucking guy who took pictures of me. He got us into this mess. If I ever find out who was behind that, I will have his hide.

The End.....

DAY 2


Satyr had been following the family for two hours now. The parents looked like the religious yuppy type, but Satyr wasn't concerned about them.

He was interested in the boy. Who just happened to be blind.

Satyr waited patiently for his opportunity. Finally it came. The family had strolled down to the lake. There was a small park next to the lake. They took their boy to the swingset and placed him onto one of the swings. They told him to stay there why they went down to the lake.

The boy began to swing as the parents walked down to the lake to skip stones over it. They had their backs turned to the boy.

Satyr stepped out of the shadows, opened his trenchcoat up, and exposed himself to the boy. He covered up and hightailed it out of there.



50 feet away, Gweg snapped photos of the whole thing.

Gweg: Good. Now to send these to the cops. Finally, I won't have to deal with him anymore. This will be perfect.