TCC CH 12 THE GLINTY AND THE PUNK

Now, we must not forget about the opposition to them Purple Robes, isn’t that right?

Country Heroes   by Hank Williams The Third  

While Christopher found himself in a new place (and suddenly in control of an empire, without a clue)

and Sven (the evil one who had ignited these Fuckno Wars) found that he was being rescued by them gunners from the roof)

and The High Priest of Them Purple Robes searched for a new body to inhabit,

…after leaving his woman to fend for herself in the dark heart of Fuckno…

Well,

we young, damned punks had just dug up a really bad asshole from the desert muck and we feared for our lives as we ran from him.

Let’s go back to that part, cool with you?  Here and now, let’s return to our side of the Fuckno Wars, from where we left.

---For the start of that part, click here. 

We ran for our lives.

Escape:

run away

-exit.

Except for one thing, which is always this:  There is no escape, there is no exit.  There is only an Entrance to the next chapter of your life.

TCC 

CH 12

THE

GLINTY

AND

THE

ANGRY
PUNK

All My Life   by Them Foo Fighters 

Now, we had a large, white utility truck with various electrical tools in many hatches and compartments, and it was stowed in a huge barn in the desert.

This was to where we ran, with The Glinty following us behind the angry punk bastard who chased us.  That fucker had some bone-snapping-fun in mind.

The Glinty shouted from behind the pink-mohawked bastard as he clambered up over the ridge of the desert dune.

He said, “Ya dang-burned yeller belly basterds!  You need to stand and fight him!  He is a bully!  He will falter!”

Of course, that made no sense to us in our panic.  We had just dug him up out of a deep desert grave and gawd-damn was he mad.

As we ran down the desert dune towards the barn, Bryan shouted from behind me, “We gonna let him steal that big truck?”

Do ya recollect, Big Bryan had always told me this:  “Where you lead, I will follow.” But who the fuck was I to do any leading?

Well, mistah man, that woke me the fuck up. Surely we couldn't lead him straight to the escape vehicle.  We had work to do in Fuckno.  We needed that naked angry fat baby who chased us now. He could fuck up everything.

I remembered what I had promised to my friends. “Leave no man behind.”

Jeez.

We'd left the Glinty behind.

Hell, it was his own damned fault for making us wake up the angry bastard.

I was in the lead because I was… well, I wouldn’t admit to being the biggest coward: I didn’t have the guts to admit it back then. But I sure could run fast.

Yup, we couldn’t leave the Glinty behind. We needed him, too.

So I made one of them executive decisions.  I switched direction and ran towards the big log cabin.

That friggin' Glinty.  It was all his fault, our predicament.  Let the angry punk smash up the cabin instead of our escape vehicle, don't ya know. 

I heard the little lion man Joey holler out from far behind.  He said, "Weeee-ill!  You heading the wrong way!"

I paid him no mind.  Sometimes, when you have to make an executive decision it hurts simply because no one at the time understands the reason you did it.  But if you show true leadership capability at that moment, then hopefully, time will reveal the truth.

You may be redeemed.  Even if that doesn't happen, (and most often it does not) then at least you can rest in peace knowing that you did the right thing.  That is true leadership.


I ran to the front steps on the other side of the cabin and I ran up.  I yanked on the huge black iron hardware and it did not budge.


Now I tell you mistah that almost made me shit my pants.


Then I recalled how some folks in Fuckno done wiped their fingers over car hoods to put spells on them and also did it to open closed doors.


I heard Big Bryan catch up to me as he clambered up the stairs.

I waved my hands over the door handles, but nothing happened.  I began to panic.  All of my friends were now following me to this porch instead of to the escape vehicle.  We might have gotten away (and also fucked over The Glinty in the process) but at least we wouldn't have to face the huge punk at the rear.


Bryan said, "Let me open it!"


Next thing you know, Joey showed up at the corner of the cabin and he stopped. I stepped away from the door and Bryan grabbed onto its handles.

Joey was out of breath. He looked at the barn, and then back beyond the corner of the cabin. His eyes got real big.

He said, "That Fat Jerry punk got the electrical worker dude!  He's beating the fuck out of him!  Let's bail!"

That made good sense to me.  Fuck that Fat Jerry, fuck that electrical worker dude, and fuck that Glinty cowboy preacher.  I turned back to Bryan and yanked him back.

He looked down at me and said, "I can't budge it.  Joey's right.  Let's get the hell out of here, now."


Sounded good to me.

 
Bryan stomped down the stairs and I looked back at them black handles on the door.

An image flashed before my eyes.  It was from when The Glinty led us up the stairs to these doors the night before.  He said something under his breath and hovered his hands over them handles, and do ya know, there was some sort of blue light that appeared.

Well, fuck it. One last chance. Being Injun and all, we have some sort of magical thing inside, right?

I hovered my hands over the handles and said some words in my native tongue.

By golly, them doors swung outward and there was a fancy feast inside, and also some shamans and gunslinger ghosts who would help us win the war!

The end.

Just kidding.  

(Sorry.  How many times?  I just can't help myself, my friend.  Ya know...)

So, nope. 


Nothing happened.

Fuck it.  I ran back down the stairs to follow the other two and that was when the utility man's body flew past my face.  

Hah?

Joey had the lead, and Bryan was catching up, and they reached the barn just as I turned to face the angry, fat punk rocker with the purple mohawk hairdo.

Did I mention he was naked?  Yup, his dangly parts whipped about as he came to a stop and glared down at me.

His knuckles bled and his forehead gleamed in the hot desert sun.

I squinted up at him.

I said, "Well hey there, Jerry!  Really sorry about fucking up your ride."

I hadn't thought that his face could get much more angry looking, but it did.  He raged.  He inhaled deep and he threw his arms to the clear blue sky.  He screamed at the top of his lungs.

He said, "You buried me in the fucking desert when you did that!  FUCK YOU!"

That was when Tellesco showed up behind, with The Glinty dude not far behind.

Had Tellesco been hiding?

I stood straight up to receive my justice.  You never intentionally fuck up another dude's ride.  Hell, you should never do it even unintentionally.  I whimpered and I closed my eyes tight.  Is it better to watch the death punch to your face, or is it worse to wait for it unseeing?

Tellesco shouted from behind the angry punk.

He said, "I was the one who stole it, you fat fuck. Blame me."

I still had my eyes closed and I was trembling, but I wanted Joey and Bryan to have a chance to get away.

And that was when the smacking sounds occured.

I opened my eyes and saw that fat naked guy in a fist fight with Tellesco.  Tellesco's burnt leather jacket ripped apart as he dodged and swung, and his frigging afghan kilt fell off.

I wintnessed two huge men fighting naked.

No one should ever view such a sight.  It's horrible.

The Glinty caught up to us all and instead of intervening between them two, he ran to the electrical worker's body.

I just stood there.  I looked at them, I looked at the men fighting, and then I looked over at Joey and Bryan in front of the barn, and they were yanking on the barn doors.  Them doors would not budge.

The Glinty had the whole place locked up tight.

In the midst of the loud smacking sounds that fists make in a fight, I turned to see what the hell that ghost cowboy was doing with that Til-Bury fellow.

He was doing something odd.  He straightened out the man's body, rearranging his broken limbs, and then he was still.

The man's body quivered for a spell, but then he began to stiffen up.  No, not in that way, ya dirty minder.  I mean, Patrick Til-Bury became solid again, like a carved stick-figure.

And then he sat up.

Well, sort of.

His body still lied in the desert dust, but a blue version of him sat up, out of it, at the arse end.

He spoke to the cowboy dude, and The Glinty spoke back at at him, and then he lied right back down.

Then his actual body began to stir.  Glinty helped him get up to his feet.

What the hell was going on?

Hah?



I ran to the barn. 


Fuck that shit.

See you next time, my friend.

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

.