Episode 3 - Running Against Time to Save the World isn't a Marathon, but it sure as Hell Feels like it when You're Running that Hard and that Fast

Running Against Time to Save the World isn't a Marathon, but it sure as Hell Feels like it when You're Running that Hard and that Fast

As two warriors look deep inside themselves to find the reserves of awesome-ness they'll need to accomplish what they must, they'll realize one horrific thing: they might be looking for the wrong reserves

Chapter One – A day filled with the usual: sleeping, shooting guns and decapitating mutated midgets once and for all

They had been doing awesome ninja rolls while shooting guns and throwing karate chops all day.

Horrors too horrific to describe had popped up out of nowhere and now Slade and Moonchops were having the fight of their super awesome lives.

Ms. Hotch’s forces of mutated midgets swarmed over everything and attacked after they had swarmed everything. Biting at ankles, ducking under tables and counters, giggling, attacking, swarming, the mutated midgets were everywhere.

But so were super-radical death bullets.

Slade and Moonchops, heroes to the heroes, fought like they were trying to save the world. Because they were. It’s simple like that.

They had a politician to rescue.

“Moonchops! Duck!” And even though Moonchops had been fighting the entire fight in the art of sleep-fighting, he heard his partner’s call. And then, he ducked.

The mutated midget on the other side of Moonchops was hit in the face by a scythe that Slade hurled and it cut off the mutated midget’s face in one stroke. The tiny mutated body fell at Moonchops’ feet and he shot it just to send a message to any other mutated midget who might get decapitated.

“Put that in your wallet and try to spend it.” Moonchops said through the art of sleep-taunting. Then he ninja-rolled just in case.

Finally the battle was won. They were one step closer now.

Chapter Two – Springing the trap

Ms. Hotch appeared out of nowhere and held a gun to the politician’s head. The man cried like a bitch, but compared to our heroic heroes Slade and Moonchops, what man wasn’t a bitch? Seriously?

“Slade! Moonchops!” She said, gun to the politician’s head.

“What?” They replied in unison as they stepped over the countless bodies of various dead, mutated midgets. Each one had been shot worse than the last, so you know the fight was tough. And awesome.

“I’m going to kill this politician here if you don’t surrender all your guns and ammo.”

Slade and Moonchops looked at each other, a deep understanding seen in all four of their eyes. Ms. Hotch, which some said was ‘Hot Bitch’ all smashed together, she couldn’t understand that look. Only Slade and Moonchops could understand their looks. It’s simple like that.

“Does this insane woman think we need guns?” Moonchops asked under his breath so quietly the words were barley a whisper because they were spoken like they were under his breath.

“Insanely hot.” Slade said.

“Let’s disarm and show her how we don’t need guns in our neck of the woods.” Moonchops said.

“Right.” Slade began to dump all of his guns when revelation suddenly dawned on him: it was a trap.

And as soon as all their guns were dropped and they were disarmed because they had no guns the politician stood up and jumped for joy.

“We’ve got you now you stupid fools!” He screamed; obviously a betrayer. He then ran off. Probably to Illinois.

And the trap was sprung.

Chapter 3 – Un-springing the trap

Double mutated midgets, now as big as a real person because they were double midgets, jumped out from everywhere. It’s like they were hiding behind trees and under rocks and shit and Slade and Moonchops just didn’t look because who hides under a rock? Seriously?

With no guns, the double mutated midgets thought they could stand a chance.

And they couldn’t.

“Kill them!” Ms. Hotch screamed and fired her gun for emphasis. The bullet shaved a mosquito in half. But the mosquito was an asshole, so it’s cool.

Waking up from the art of sleep-not-sleeping, Moonchops defiantly said: “Now let’s see who has sprung a trap on who!”

“Yeah!” Slade said. They high-fived and started jacking fools up left and right. Ninja rolls were constantly going off like fireworks. The double mutated midgets fell easier than the regular mutated midgets, which kind-of doesn’t make sense because you would think that a double mutated midget would be twice as hard as a regular one. But apparently, it’s not so.

Tiny mutated body parts flew through the air like a cyclone of dismemberment. Slade and Moonchops were in the eye of the storm, as they always were when they fought to save the world. It’s simple like that.

Covered in little-person gore, Ms. Hotch held up a small black thing that had a flashing red light on it. She said: “This is an environmentally friendly bio-fuel nuclear bomb. It might only be two inches long but it packs one hell of a punch.”

“That’s what she said.” Slade said and winked at Moonchops.

“I’ve heard that before.” Moonchops said, winking back. They high-fived again and looked back to Ms. Hotch.

Moonchops stepped forward and said: “Look, you’re hot. I mean superhuman boner hot. So I tell you what. Slade and I have agreed that if you turn yourself in and don’t blow up the Earth with an environmentally friendly doomsday device, we’ll double-team you like never before. I promise you, you won’t regret it.”

“I already do.” Ms. Hotch said with a tear rolling down her cheek. She pushed the death-button.

Chapter 4 – Not the double-team they wanted, but the double-team that fate served up

Slade leapt forward just as fast and badass as Moonchops had taught him so long ago.

He caught the environmentally friendly doomsday device in his fist and squeezed so hard that as it blew up and was going to kill the world the explosion couldn’t get out of his hand to kill anyone. He squeezed that hard. And thusly the world was saved.

“No!” Ms. Hotch screamed and jumped into the air. She did a super-slo-mo roundhouse kick towards Slade like she were in the movie The Matrix and as she was about ready to kick him through the face and maybe even through his soul, Monchops stepped up.

Before her kick landed, Moonchops said: “The next time you decide to blow up the world, do it with a better bomb.” And then he revealed a gun he didn’t disarm from and shot Ms. Hotch in her foot. The bullet was designed to split in two and one piece then shot her in the face and the other piece shot her in the asshole. It’s simple like that.

She fell to the ground, not dead but wishing she was, and Slade and Moonchops stood over and realized that she was so fucking hot not even a face bullet to the face made her not-hot. Moonchops rolled her over and looked at the asshole bullet. Still super sexy hot.

“No amount of face shooting will ever make her gross.” Slade said.

“Right. No matter how many double mutated midget entrails are spilled, sprayed and dangling from her body, they will never take away the superhuman boner-ness of her.”

“No matter how gay a man is, she’ll make him un-gay.” Slade said.

Moonchops, having said all of this from the art of sleep-sex-talking, woke up. Looked at Ms. Hotch. “Damn, who shot her in the face?” He asked.

Not hearing him, Slade continued. “No matter how fat she might get, her hot bitch-ness still reigns supreme.”

“Just like tacos.” Moonchops said.

They looked at each other and back to her. Then back to each other and back to her again. Then they looked all around. They understood their looks like no one else besides Slade and Moonchops could.

Chapter 5 – And that’s how they saved the world

And that’s how they saved the world.

THE END

* no super hot women were meant to be offended because of this writing. And let's face it: most women who think they're that hot really aren't. So before you get offended, double-check how attractive you really are. And I don't mean ask your boyfriend or husband; they'll say whatever it takes to get a hot meal and sex. I know I do. In fact, it's safe to assume you're super ugly if you're offended. Hot chicks don't need to get offended. So that settles it. You're ugly.

Episode 2 - A night to be remembered, if the Rufies will let us

A night to be remembered, if the Rufies will let us

Breaking up with someone special is hard to do, but simply breaking someone special is easier than one would think

Chapter Zero – How it all began

Before time began, Adam and Eve were making babies. After time began, mankind invented war. Some people wished those two things were reversed, but they were not. Who knows why anything happens.

This is a story about two babies who were made for war. Men born, bred and trained to be the ultimate, righteous and radical instruments in the world’s wars against pure, not-awesome evil. Without these two men, born from people like Adam and Eve but not those two in particular, there would be no world.

Only war.

Chapter One – Last Night

Moonchops looked at the TP Addict handbook on the nightstand. He took a swig from his lemon-water and knew that if he even opened the door, he’d never get it back under control. He coughed, rubbed his chin stubble and zipped his pants up. The hard life of being a Double-Zero-Seven led him to it. The addiction.

He recalled all the nights he spent in group therapy, the forty in forty as they called it. The withdrawals, the dreams, the cravings. TP. Handed down through his family. His father was one. Both his father’s fathers. Yes, he had two granddads on that one side, and neither was a step-grandfather either. Don’t ask. Back then they were just ‘roommates’ or ‘close friends who had a friendship strong enough to where they didn’t need women as long as they had their buddy’.

The super-secret phone rang, startling him out of the depressing memory of Jerry and his first TP-related fatality.

“Hello?”

“Moonchops?” Slade asked.

“Yes, this is Moonchops. Who is this?”

“This is Slade.”

Oh, Slade. Moonchops’ long time partner. They had saved the world from total annihilation and obliteration and demolition and some lesser things too. Slade knew some of the TP story; enough to understand that while Moonchops was clean now, at one point he was not. Back when Moonchops was simply a Double-Zero-Six, one away from the big time. Things went horribly wrong one day with an old partner. Damn the TP. It ruined everything.

But Moonchops was cleared, cleaned up once and for all, worked hard, earned back trust and respect, was promoted, paired with the most super-sweet awesome fighter ninja secret agent ever. Slade.

Their country needed them again. Their world needed them again. Slade spelled it out over the super-secret phone. You can do that kind of thing on super-secret phones.

“The country needs us again?” Moonchops asked.

“Yes.” Slade said. “And like I said earlier: so does the world.”

“Well, which one is it?”

“What do you mean?”
“Does the country need us, or the world?”
“Both.”

“They ask so much of us.” Moonchops said as he gripped his TP handbook tighter than he did the first time he read it.

“That’s why we’re Double-Zero-Sevens instead of Double-Oh-Sevens like that Limey queer who wear the tuxedo and drinks girly martinis with caviar. You see me in a tux? You See me drink anything besides Toilet Bowl Surprise and eating anything- oh, Moonchops. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Slade. If I didn’t like mustard and we went to a deli, you wouldn’t ask me if it were OK to put mustard on your sandwich. This is the same thing.”

“Can you save the country?”

“Yes.”

“What about the world?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have the plane meet you.”

“No.” Moonchops said. He stood and buttoned his sleeveless jacket up. “I’ll walk.”

“But we need you now. Walking might-”

“I’ll walk fast.”

On the other end of the phone, Slade smiled with a pride few had ever known.

“That’s the Moonchops I know.”

Moonchops started right away. Because somewhere, dark forces were brewing.

Chapter Two – The Brewing of Dark Forces

The evil Death Lord Master tented his fingertips and held them against his chin. It made him look like he was deep in thought although he only had one thought that he ever thought: kill the world.

He felt it was any evil man’s only thought but he wanted to look good and insightful as he thought it. Somewhere in the background the coffee was percolating.

His army of killer robots was finally ready. Lined out before him in a dark cavern somewhere where the sun never shined and the rain never fell and the birds never sang because they never went there in the first place, he had founded his evil lair.

He thought maybe a dragon should be living in his lair, but only the kind of evil dragon that had one thought: kill the world. He had super-secret scientists building his army of killer robots for years now. The army was done. He had forced all the super-secret scientists into a gas chamber he had them build alongside the killer robots.

Unfortunately, the super-secret scientists had built the army of robots better than they had the gas chamber and when Death Lord Master shut the door it wouldn’t look. So he had to hold it closed by jamming his foot at the bottom of the thing and he used a stick to reach over to the controls to turn on the death gas.

But there was a leak in the coupling from the death gas cylinder going into the chamber so the gas leaked into the air and caused death to no super-secret scientist. So he finally opened the door and swore them to secrecy about the killer robot army, which they had no problem with because they were already super-secret scientists to begin with.

They then boarded a train and went to Holland where they would vacation until another mad man hired them to build something. It’s what they did.

Death Lord Master tented his fingertips again and said out loud: “World, your time has come.”

He then laughed manically for a few minutes until a commercial he wanted to watch came on TV. When it was over he said: “And if Moonchops and his new partner think they can stop me, I will show the world just how weak Moonchops is right before I kill it.”

The evil Death Lord Master then opened a drawer and took out a TP handbook, opened it to the chapter entitled: Don’t Do This Or You Will Fail In Your Quest To Never Again Succumb to TP, and he made preparations for Moonchops to do it.

He was so evil.

Chapter Three – The end of a long walk, and the beginning of another one

Moonchops arrived in time to meet Slade.

“I’ve never seen walking like that before, brother. I have a lot to learn from you.” Slade said.

“Give it time, brother friend. You’ll be out-walking me one day soon.” Moonchops said.

Slade handed Moonchops his fucking-sweet-ass-sweet laser death gun. Moonchops cocked the bolt back and before releasing it to load the first laser death bullet, he looked over the open chamber and said: “You know, this day has been coming for a long, long time.”

The snap of the bolt slamming shut told Slade that this day had been coming for a long, long time.

“I believe you, brother friend hero. I believe you.” Slade said and loaded his own assassin blaster cannon. “We found him in a cavern someplace where not even birds will go. You know the place?”

“I’ve known it for years. It is my own heart.” Moonchops said.

“No. We’re thinking of two totally different places. The one I’m talking about is where we can get to by train from Holland. You feel like sniffing the tulips before we do this?”

Moonchops looked at his partner and said: “No tulips for me. I like my women all-natural.”

“Of course.” Slade said. “I’m sorry to bring it up.”

“No worries, brother friend hero soul mate.”

“You know he’s built robots, right?”

“I heard the super-secret scientists did that.”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ve heard it.”

“Ready to whack robots?”

“I don’t mind killing anything, Slade.” Moonchops said and lit a cigarette. “Especially anything that requires batteries but doesn’t vibrate.”

“Let’s go!” The both shouted in unison and high-fived while jumping.

And so they did. The train left that night.

Chapter Four – TP and the final countdown to all of Earth’s demise unless Slade and Moonchops can prevent it from happening like they always have in the past

They arrived, guns blazing. Robots fell everywhere. More robots returned fire from their super-evil wrist guns.

Dead robot bodies littered the battlefield as Slade and Moonchops used their super-awesome guns to cut them down like grass that had grown too tall or wheat that was ready for the harvest or hair that needed a trim before a really important job interview. Sprockets rolled here, wires sparked and fizzled out there. Occasionally a startled woman would scream off in the distance.

Finally Slade and Moonchops had pulverized the robot scum into oblivion and destroyed them all from the face of the Earth by pulverizing them into oblivion. Lord Death Master would need more if he were to stop our heroes now. The next time he thought: kill the world he’d need more robots to do it with if he wanted to kill the world.

And then, like a horrible nightmare going on inside someone’s mind while they slept, Death Lord Master stepped out from the shadows, looked Moonchops in the eyes and said: “Hello, old partner.”

Moonchops looked at Jerry, now the evil Lord Death Master and said: “Hello, Jerry.”

“Hello Moony. I see you’re a Double-Zero-Seven now. Glad to see that by turning me evil with your stupid addiction to TP you were promoted.”

“It’s not like that and you know it. After I accidentally turned you evil I studied abroad for a year and wrote a killer thesis on the theoretical applications of dragon scales to up-armor vehicles like tanks and predator drones. Imagine a B-2 stealth bomber being stealth and fireproof. It was super fucking sweet. It made your thesis on the 18^th century agrarian hardships and triumphs suck worse than RoboCop 3.”

Unfazed, the evil would-be world killer said: “I thought I’d never hear from you again after that fateful night.”

“Jerry, in recovery I learned I have to apologize to everyone I have hurt because of my TP. I never had a chance with my mother, but you, Jerry…”

“I know your purpose. That’s why I never answered your calls.” Evil gleamed in his death master-y eyes. “That’s also why I moved, changed my email, started driving a hybrid even though those clown cars are for bitches and dyed my hair. So you could never find me and therefore never apologize and therefore never recover from…”

Lord Death Master yanked a cloth that was covering a table full of delicious foods. Moonchops gasped like a little girl losing her virginity. “No!” He screamed and tried to cover his eyes.

Lord Death Master was so evil.

Death Lord Master squealed in delight and exclaimed: “You’ll never recover from being a Taste Pussy!”

“ALL THESE YEARS!” Moonchops exclaimed, hurling the statement forth into the universe from his mouth like booze vomit at a frat party.

He stared down the food. Being a Taste Pussy had cramped and ruined his life until he learned to control it. Hours and weeks and more, learning that he didn’t like some foods but loving others, afraid to try new things, preferring bland and unimaginative recipes to exotic, delicious ones. It was all flooding back.

The memory when his mother offered her young son a fresh, picked-from-the-vine-only-moments-ago peapod and saying: “Here, honey. I picked this fresh from the vine only moments ago. Eat it. It’s a sugar-snap pea. The difference between garden-fresh and store-bought is unbeleiveable!”

But Moonchops liked store-bought. He liked it so much and now… the challenge was both unfair and daunting and total horse crap and whatever. Young Moonchops realized he was a Taste Pussy then, in front of his mother. What if he didn’t like the pod itself? Was that part of eating garden-fresh? If she came in with corn would he have to eat the husks? Where was the store now, in his most urgent hour of need? It was ludicrous. And thusly, his addiction to Pussy-ness began.

Tears streaming down his face, jaw chattering, a small, dark and warm wet spot appearing on the groin of his pants, Moonchops screamed to God: “What do you want from me?! Why give me this burden you son-of-a-bitch!?”

Slade knew what he must do. He looked to his brother friend hero soul mate warrior princess and said firmly but with utter devotion and love: “Don’t eat the food. Eat what you love, and only what you love.”

And like that Moonchops stopped screaming and crying. He got a firefight-y gleam in his eyes and said: “Jerry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry being a Taste Pussy hurt you the way that it did. The way that I did.”

Death Master Lord said: “I do not forgive you, Moonchops.”

And Moonchops replied: “I never said I needed your forgiveness, Jerry. I just have to apologize.” And then he shot him in his face.

As Lord Jerry Master Death was wiggling on the robot blood-stained ground, screaming from his face-bullet, Moonchops walked up and said: “I’m sober now, Jerry. I’m sober.” And then he shot him in his asshole, a wound no one survives.

Jerry Death Master Lord died eight days later.

Slade walked up and patted Moonchops on the back. “You did it brother friend hero soul mate warrior princess sugar pie honey bun. You did it.”

Moonchops stared off into the sunset, casting a red and orange glow over them. “I realize now that for all those years Jerry was my enabler, letting me hide away behind the dark, veiled curtains that Taste Pussy-ism will draw over your eyes and all that. But you, Slade. You showed me that I didn’t need to hide. I just didn’t need to eat. Or really, that I just needed to eat what I wanted to eat. Which it says right in the TP Handbook, but I never must have read that part or something.”

Slade smiled, squeezed his partner’s shoulder. He thought about kissing his neck, but decided not to. It might be weird. And besides, it was probably just a passing thing anyways.

Moonchops wiped away a happy tear with the hand that held his gun that just shot Death Lord Jerry Master in his face and asshole and said: “One day at a time, Slade. One day at a time.”

They pranced off into the sunset, world disaster averted.

Epilogue – Sobriety

Moonchops picked up his phone and called his Taste Pussy sponsor. He prattled on and on like a twelve year-old girl with a new cell phone.

“It was like the group was there with me, sensei, chanting and whispering the steps into my ears. All I had to do was… not eat. Not try the foods I don’t want to try. My fears melted away. My heart returned. My old sins forgiven, my new sins yet to be sinned. Killing Jerry was so freeing and so wonderful, I wish my mom could be alive to see it. But, on the other hand they’re both probably burning in Hell together so she must know. And she must be proud of me. I know she is. I love you mom. I love you.”

His sponsor said something. But who cares.

THE END

Episode One - The Night the Bells Donged Twice

THE NIGHT THE BELLS DONGED TWICE

When two men realize they have to do the unthinkable in order to start thinking again, the beginning is only... the beginning

Chapter One (1) : Prologue

The dusk had given way to night.

The night was giving way to more night when it happened. From where the sun had set only hours ago, planes flew through the sky like night hawks. Night hawks on the hunt. Hunting for what?

Answer: two men.

Two men so dangerous and cunning that foxes weren’t sly enough to out-sly or out-cunning them. Their names?

Answer: Curtis, AKA Slade and Ryan, AKA Moonchops.

Through the night they ran from the night hawk-like planes. Their mission?

Answer: critical. So critical and sensitive that they didn’t know what it was, only that they would know what to do when they got there. Where?

Answer: unknown. And thusly they began.

Chapter Two (2) : The real Chapter One (1)

Their guns were super-sweet. Their training was more top notch than even ninjas or most Navy SEALs. Their minds as sharp as a knife that can cut through raw steak like it were butter.

Slade and Moonchops hid under a tree and ate apples. The night hawk-like planes flew overhead at least twenty times, each time getting closer to their target than the time before. And so it went.

After each had eaten three apples and had sips of water they decided to move out. It was the only thing they could do. A few more passes and the night hawk-like planes would discover them. Then the real trouble would begin.

Slade was in the lead but grew tired of running. Moonchops was skilled in the ancient Native American art of sleep-running, so he didn’t grow tired. Slade looked at Moonchops and said: “Let’s blast a few of these bedraggled buzzards so we can breathe like beautiful free birds. Cool?”

Moonchops awoke upon sensing he was being spoken to and said: “What?”

Slade said: “I said: let’s blast a few of these bedraggled buzzards so we can breathe like beautiful free birds. Cool?”

“What does ‘bedraggled’ mean?” Moonchops asked.

“Let my gun show you.” Slade said in response to Moonchops’ question.

And with that, Slade and Moonchops lit up the night sky in a flurry or firepower fury as they mowed down night hawk-like plane after night hawk-like plane. Each being shot to death worse than the last. It was as if the dusk, which had given way to night, which had in turn given way to more night, had finally given way to less night, and finally, what comes after night.

Dawn.

When they were finally surrounded by the burning husks of shotten down night hawk-like planes, each more shot than the last, Slade and Moonchops ate powdered eggs and made instant coffee. It was the best meal they’d had since they started this mission almost four hours ago.

And there was still so much more to come.

So much more.

Chapter Three (3) : The Bad Guys’ Introduction

“Whosoever shooteth my night hawk-like planes down must in turn be shot just as they have shot my night hawk-like planes. I command it be done so.”

General Screecher said as he stood in front of his Chiefs of Staff. “And I command it be done so at least twice as badly as they have doneth. If we can do it worse, so be it. Do it that way.”

The five other men, one woman and the black midget all looked at each other and let their fear show in their eyes to each other like children caught stealing candy by adults who could punish them.

“But General,” Chief of Staff Number One (1) said in a voice as timid as any scared-y cat, “they were shot down by… gulp… Slade and Moonchops.”

At the names of our two heroes our villains all gasped. General Screecher tried his best to contain his gasp but even he gasped in the end. He was afraid of this.

“I was afraid of this.” He said.

“We were also afraid of this.” Said Chief of Staff Number Seventeen (17). It is important to point out there were once more Chiefs of Staff, but through the years various ones were killed battling Slade and Moonchops. Also, others died from natural causes like Chiefs of Staff Eight (8) and Thirty-seven (37). And Chief of Staff One-hundred and Sixty-six (166) died in a car crash, which isn’t technically natural.

“Well then, sendeth Hulu-Pants to the shootings site and have him worketh such a hunt frometh there.” General Screecher said. His Chiefs of Staff all agreed to do so.

“We agree.” They said. The black midget called Hulu-Pants and gave the order. Hulu-Pants agreed.

“I agree.” Hulu-Pants said, agreeing to his order from General Screccher that the black midget told him.

Hulu-Pants went and got there when his plane landed and his rental car got him to the shootings site. So the real hunt began.

Chapter Four (4) : How the Battle Began and Ended in Victory for Slade and Moonchops

Hulu-Pants drew his pretty sweet but not super-sweet gun and fired at Slade and Moonchops, who had taken a break shortly after eating their eggs and coffee. They were asleep under another tree; this one shaded them better from any future night hawk-like planes than the last one where they were almost discovered eating apples.

Hulu-Pants was a better knife-fighting man than a gun-fighting man, so his shot went wild and instead hit a goose dead in the face.

“If only that shot hit either Slade or Moonchops.” Hulu-Pants said as he shot again. By now Slade and Moonchops were awake and being shot at. They moved. Hulu-Pants wound up hitting a rock off in the distance. He dropped the gun and drew a knife.

“I might not be able to shot you two in the face like I did that goose but with a knife I’m a better fighter and I will stab you in the face.” Hulu-Pants said.

Knife in hand, he ran at Slade and Moonchops. But our heroes drew their guns from a safe distance and shot Hulu-Pants in his own face, each shot worse than the last until he died from all his face-bullets.

Slade stood over Hulu-Pants and said: “That’s how we scramble eggs in our neck of the woods.” Then he shot Hulu-Pants again, this time in the back of the face.

Moonchops woke up, having fought the entire fight in the art of sleep fighting. He said: “What?”

Slade, in response to Moonchops’ earlier question, replied: “I said: that’s how we scramble eggs in our neck of the woods.”

“Yeah!” Moonchops said. Then he shot a second goose in the face just to show the dead Hulu-Pants guy how it’s done.

“Now, onto the secret mission.” Slade said.

“Yeah.” Moonchops said, in agreement with what Slade had just said.

And so they did.

Chapter Five (5) : How the West Was Won Again, but this time from General Screecher and not Indians or whatever

“Let’s do this! Operation: Winning the West back but From Different People This Time commencing!” Slade said as they stormed General Screecher’s Palace of Fortitude.

General Screecher’s Chiefs of Staff-including the woman but not the black midget-grabbed their guns and started shooting. Slade and Moonchops shot them all in their faces except Chief of Staff Number Four-thousand, Two-hundred and Eighty-one (4281) who was accidentally shot in the asshole by the woman Chief of Staff because she couldn’t handle the recoil of the weapons. Her wrists were weak.

He died from his asshole wound five days later in a hospital.

Slade and Moonchops found General Screecher and said: “Tell us where the base you built on Mars is and we’ll let you live for another day!”

General Screecher said: “I started to build one but the fuel cost was eating into my profit margin so much that I stopped the building and instead built a secret underground nuclear blaster base under Paris!”

“We didn’t ask about any secret underground nuclear blaster base under Paris! Tell us about Mars!”

General Screecher said: “But I just did! I told you everything! Seriously!”

“Fine. Have it your way.” Moonchops said and drew his gun, which he had put away after shooting up the Chiefs of Staff, each worse than the last until they were all dead.

“Maybe this will help you talk!” And he shot General Screecher in his face and his asshole. He didn’t die right then, but he wished he had.

“Good work Moonchops. That’ll teach him.” Slade said.

They left. Walking into the sunset they high-fived (5) and shouted: “Operation: Winning the West back but From Different People This Time accomplished!!!!!!!”

Chapter Six (6) : Epilogue, which means after it’s over

Slade and Moonchops, now safely back in America, ate burgers and hung out. They cleaned their weapons and waited for the next mission. And until it arrived, they would be ready.

THE END

* no black midgets were meant to be insulted by the telling of this story. It could have been any midget; this one just happened to be black. The content of his character, although admittedly evil, was what counted.