Frank Klepacki. Hell
March.
The Lion Man stole a vehicle and rode it out of that
hospital like a bat from the fires of Hephaestus. The tiny red Mazda truck was an older make,
and probably from someone who didn’t have all that much money.
He would later tell me that it still comes back to him, even
now. You see, it was an emergency that
had made the owner drive to the hostibal in the first place, and in such a
mental state, they’d forgotten to lock it up after having to find a place to park
it out of the way of the rest of the emergencies that would be showing up.
Someone had tragedy befall someone who mattered enough to
them to eschew an ambulance ride, or perhaps it was there was no time to wait
for an ambulance, whatever.
An it was evident that they didn’t have enough funds to
afford a newer vehicle that would lock up and arm itself with an alarm system
at the press of a key fob button.
Now their ride was stolen.
Talk about a bad day for them.
However, Joey was having a bad day. Hell, he had been having a bad day all
night. Perhaps you will forgive him for
how he abused that old vehicle.
Lion Man Sped along in panic mode (Do Not Panic, unless it
is absolutely necessary) among the side streets in the black heart of
Fuckno. He’d left Saint Mary’s Hostibal
just as the police cars were arriving there in response to the discovery of one
of the stolen expensive vehicles from the mayhem up to the north and west.
It would have been too easy to jump back in and race
away. Too easy, as in; easily caught.
He listened to his instincts, and that is what you must
always do when you are in Panic Mode.
Fight or Flee. If you are lucky
enough to have been trained hard in how to react or navigate during Panic Mode,
then God Bless You. These skills have
become your instinct.
Joey had not been trained, so all that he had in his tool
box was his natural self-preservation instincts, and these would serve him
well.
The thing that you should know about The Little Lion Man was
that in his own tool box, he was an instigator.
That would be his savior.
+ + +
+ + + +
.
Hello, this is Trish Tocker for KFUK-TV and I am pleased to
tell you that the international news station Cable Unlimited News, or CUN as we
lovingly refer to them, has picked up our story. Apparently, the alleged amazing explosions
up to the north of Fuckno and the coinciding baptism of a huge mansion at the
same place are not the end of this Night Of Treachery Coming Out Of Losers Behaving Really Awfully, or NOT COOL
BRA as we are referring to it. Indeed, there is alleged evidence that some
vigilantes, acting as heroes, tried to thwart the escaping stealers of
cars. Many allegedly have ended up
injured in their attempts to stop them stealers. I know!
How totally tubular that I am covering this story Leslie! Ahem, I apologize for that. Leslie is our excited camera man. So we have allegedly have been told by police
that everyone needs to be on the lookout for some other vehicles. One is a Maserati Bora, and another is a
horse-drawn funeral stage coach with a bright, blue horse that glows like it
was on fire with blue flames, and also a long black vehicle with a circle A
painted on its driver’s door. Now back
to you in the studio, where you can make a seat for me at the anchor’s desk for
the nightly news, bitches! Oh my
god! My hair is so fucked right now from
the torrential downpour---
(---commercials cut in for closed fast foods joints at this
early hour---)
+ + +
+ + + +
Seen felt at ease. He
had been afraid of the probing and examination tools at first, but since these
folks did not appear to intend to harm him, he let them do their work. Hopefully, they would make this new vessel
healthy enough for him to restart his previous work, on such a mortal plane of
existence.
He lied now in his fresh, clean bed, and wondered about the
amount of work it took to keep such a place this clean. He considered that
their food might also be good. This new
body’s belly rumbled and gurgled in hunger. He wondered what food they might
have in store for him to eat. He
wondered what weapons they might have for him to steal.
He put his arms up behind his head and looked at the ceiling
and smiled.
It had been centuries since he’d last been here, and my, how
things had changed, he thought.
And then a nurse came in to help him wash up.
Sleeper Agent. Get
Burned. For Tellesco.
“Tellesco! I have an
idea!”
“Really?! Nice! I ain’t got any myself, Mr. Will!”
“I know, and that’s cool.
But keep driving and check this idea out. Do you remember the way to your old place?”
“Ha! Of course I
do! I know that route like… Uh, wait.
You want me to drive us there?”
“Well, yes. Just do
it. You’ll see.”
“Huh. Well, ok, if
you say so Mr. Will.”
Radical Face. Welcome
Home. We drove to Tellesco’s home. This is for him, wherever he may be now. Hope he’s doing well.
He drove the huge black hearse without saying anything at
all. The rain that pounded the wind
shield with its angry knuckles covered our shared silence. I stared out of the passenger window, trying
to be cool, but all I could see was my own fraught face staring back, lit from
the watery light of the headlamps refracted back upon us from the rain.
Ya know, it took something to drive back to the home that he
grew up in and was now gone. No matter
what had happened to him there, no matter what had become of it, the place we
were heading towards had once been his home.
And because of what had happened to it, he had lost Home.
Looking back, I think that was why he held on to Sean so
strongly.
Sean was his Home.
Home was were Sean was.
And now, Sean was gone.
Seen was in his place.
Seen was a Walkin.
Sorry about that Tellesco.
Damn.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out.
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