The Journey Part 48

At the top of the blog, it has links to short-stories I punched up some years ago.. I used to do these quite often it seems, especially during the pandemic, I would write fiction. Especially in the fall season.

I like fall, I remember a long long time ago, I wrote after a lovely Canadian Thanksgiving I had...this ongoing story... which was the first time I wrote something that kept going instead of just having an ending after an hour or so of writing.

Fall's a relaxing time for me. For many reasons. Many many reasons.

Fall's a time for me to go... aaahhhhwwww it is fall... it's so nice. You know?

Let's write a haiku about the fall,

Softness of cold air
The crunching of leaves to foot
Ah, 'tis fall it 'tis

I'm looking at that story I started writing in 2019, called "The Journey", which according to what I wrote in the pre-amble was a concept piece where I tried to write an original short story with three main writing styles trying to merge into one. I can't really say it turned out that way... but that was just the original idea for it.

It's listed up above but here's the link to that one again: (https://www.writingsonsubjects.com/2019/01/lets-practice-some-more.html)

Hmmm... it seems I wrote three chapters. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and Chapter 89... thinking one day I'd go back and write some chapters every few years and fill the rest in. I don't think it'll ever get done unless I live to be 175 years old.

Let's crack that one open back up, gang!

Here is now volume number 48 (of 89).

The Journey Part 48
 -a short story by D.


....and then? Well, I turned away and never even looked back on that sorry no-good rotten town.

My journey across this gigantic beautiful wasteland known as Canada must continue, for, I must reach Thunder Monastery on Vancouver Island and meet the Canadian Buddha. Soon, thumpin' away on these soles of mine, these weathered-down blistered feet which are now almost hooves... I shall make my first stride into the province known only as Manitoba...

...also known as...

Parts Unknown.

I think about this vast cold landscape of a country, from time to time as I walk from end to end of it... and I think about some of the names I see scattered across this map of ours. Names such as Dirtwater... or a town's who's name is Old Asbestos Factory Gorge II. Yes, Old Asbestos Factory Gorge II, a name that tells you everything you would ever want to know about a town from just the name alone. A name that lends so much history and mystique to itself that it almost tells a whole story.

The fact that it's Old Asbestos Factory Gorge II... means there's a not only a New one near it somewhere but they really actually went back to change the old one to be called the Old one. Not only that but the II denotes there's an Asbestos Factory Gorge I out there and that this isn't even the first time they moved Old Asbestos Factory Gorge. They've moved this factory which is what they've named this town after FOUR times total, now. There are currently four Asbestos Factory Gorges in Canada, currently... according to this town's name. Four places on the map must be named this.

Oh and let us not forget about Moose Cavity Tooth. Yes, yes, yes. Oh, yes. A town, I can only pretend to guess, must have been named after a man who became the province's only moose dentist and opened a small moose dentistry shoppe which became, for a short time, centuries ago, the talk of the town... and well... I guess they just never felt to bother to change the completely archaic name of this town to something less weird to think about.

Do you remember the advertising jingle which promoted tourism to behold the wonders of Moose Cavity Tooth? I do.

Come down to Moose! Cavity TOOTH!
The ooooonly town around that has a Phone! BOOTH!

It used to air in the 1980s... which even by 1980s standards is a pretty archaic thing for a town to be popular for... yet in comparison that is used to be popular for being the region's hot spot for getting your moose's cavities fixed... the fact that your modern claim to fame is having a phone booth is not so bad in comparison. Actually, fixing moose's teeth, if you think about it, is actually pretty unique... they should open like a moose tooth museum that displays moose's teeth with big holes in them and people can see how big moose's cavities are. Phone booths are archaic now also... they should go retro and try to be hip by bringing back moose cavities as their claim to fame.

Alright, what else we got here on this map here that I'm pursuing that I got, as I continue walking across Canada, from sea to shining sea? Hmm, here we have... Crapstain Island? Oh come on now, Canada. No one names things this even like a hundred years ago. Wait, maybe they named it after the fish called the crappie? I hope so, anyway. I guess there's so many crappies swimming around that island they just went ahead in the olden days and named it Crapstain Island. Right?

Hold on... I'm coming close to a strange one on here... I'm currently a stone's throw away from this one...

... Lake Scumbag.

I don't have a way to rationalize this one. Who would look at a lake and name it... Lake Scumbag? There's no positive trait that can be gleaned from this totally repulsive name for a town. They named this town and officially committed it to paper and to maps as... Lake Scumbag.

I'm gonna huff it, man. I'm just gonna huff it right on there. I'm going straight into that Scumbag of a lake and see just what it's all about. Imagine it's the opposite and it's a very nice and serene lake that for some reason is called Scumbag? Who knows, lets go see... shall we?

The day turned into the night and the wind became quite cold, my friends, as I advance on foot to Lake Scumbag. What thrills await? I can't even begin to think about it. I truly wonder if it will be a gentle town to walk through and enjoy the sights and sounds of... or will thrills and chills be afoot?

I approached the main road of the town... it read... Mrs. Scumbag street? Who would name something Mrs. Scumbag street? Did some woman used to sell pies on this road to travellers in the olden days but back then scumbag meant like a sack you carry shaved-silver scum nickels in for the uhhh... whatever you would put a scum nickel into? The scum, uh, cleaner... machine? Who knows. Honestly, after many many weeks, or has it been months now? Months, yes, of walking... I don't know what to make of some things any longer. Life is a silly and strange mis-shapen little stone or rock sometimes, guys, it really is. There's some things... that just can't be explained.

Actually, let's keep walking, let's huff a few more yards, guys... let's get to the first cross street here and just see, exactly, if the next street name is a little more on the normal enough side before we continue on in this town.

As I walked to the next cross street, I hoped something more common would appear on the green and white street sign... maybe something like Maple Street or Garden Road or something of that variety.

Precious O'Scumbag Road?

Uh... what?

That's not normal, either. The founder's name from a long time ago maybe? I don't know.

I think I'm just gonna get something to eat and skip Lake Scumbag altogether. I have an eerie feeling about this town and its fall and... I'm catching a short-case of the dang willies over here. There is no acceptable explanation inside of my brain, as of currently, as to why a town is named this and why a town has streets like this in it.

HOLD UP! I hear footsteps behind me! Someone is approaching. I brace myself and keep steady with my right eye pointed to my right side to have a peripheral angle when they appear... thus hopefully giving me a split second to assess them before they are directly in front of me. I hope he doesn't approach from my left side for then I shall be ambushed. It's a 50/50 chance...

They tap my... left shoulder! Oh no!

"Hey... podnuh."

It's a man.

"Podnuh. Look, this town 'aint for travellers, podnuh."

"Well, podnuh." I replied in a mock voice as, on the fly, I chose my initial first impression he'd have of me to be of a mocking nature.

"Well, what? PODNUH!" he replied.

"Well... you see, podnuh, I'm just a simple walking fellow... nothing more and nothing less. I'm walking around this country." I said.

"Weeelllll, That's not a very good idea. This town 'aint for travellers. Trust me, I'm one of them." He informed me.

I was beginning to be more at ease as I thought maybe this man is in the same boat as me and is as weirded out as me... so I asked him.

"Sir... do you find this town odd in any way or fashion? The street signs cast an air of unease to this small hamlet, n'est ce pas?" I asked.

"Nessa Pah? I don't speak that french, man. But, LOOK, podnuh! Are you asking me if this place is weird? I've been here for two weeks now, podnuh! I drove in here to get fuel for my truck... that was two weeks ago! I need to get outta here. Weird? Podnuh this town is the TWILIGHT ZONE up in here, son! I'm stranded here! Turn back and get out of here... while you CAN," he responded, wide-eyed, eyes saturated with fear.

"Where's your truck?" I inquired of this fellow.

"My truck!? Podnuh... these scumbags stole my truck at gunpoint!" he responded.

"Did you inform the proper authorities?" I ever-so innocently and naively asked of him.

"......" he responded.

"Did you inform the proper authorities of this region of the infraction made against you?" I re-iterated the query.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAAAAAAH! Podnuh... that's funniest thing I've ever heard," he exclaimed with a laugh tinged in fear and a sense that I was a very naive man.

"....?" I was puzzled by his response.

"Podnuh... those scumbags said something like, 'yeah we already found your truck', and they took me to some weird-ass broke-ass garage near Scumbag Station... and when I got there with them... they were laughing at me," he began...

"Laughing?" I interjected.

"Yeah, podnuh. A proper authority as you refer to them... threw me my steering wheel... stopped laughing and said... 'here's what's left of it, loser, it's parts now'... I caught the steering wheel... looked down in dismay, fierce dismay, and realized that this town is a trap, podnuh!" he explained to me with tears forming in his eyes.

"A trap?" I naively asked.

"Yeah, man! A trap! You dumb or something!? This town is a festering craphole! I'm from Detroit, podnuh. I had a delivery to make from Michigan to Scumbag in my itinerary two weeks ago! Awww, maaaaaan, it's been TWO WEEKS already! TWO! WEEKS!" He started to tell me.

"You came in your truck to ship something here and they stole it from you?" I asked, feeling dumb right after, because he already basically told me that very clearly but I was saying it in disbelief rather than to glean information and now I was bracing myself to be insulted for being a moron.

"Are you a damned MORON, podnuh!? I already told you that! MAN! Please, please, please... turn back... while you can," he pleaded to me.

"How come you can't just leave with me? Come with me to the next town," I told him. I wanted to show him support.

"Dude... I 'aint leaving this place until I get a new truck and I will get a new truck... not only that... but I will get my revenge on this unforgivable hamlet for what they did to me was purely unforgivable to a totally unforgivable degree. The level of unforgivableness of to which these scumbags have done unto me is of a biblical nature... they are biblically unforgivable. I cannot and will not and shall not forgive them, be on my merry way, and go back without my truck. I have become, in the last two week, a man on a mission... a mission of pure revenge and of total destruction. My heart inside my breast beats with the unforgivable rage of a man hell-bent on revenge.... and I shall beat many many many... MANY... a man's ass on my path to revenge upon the unforgivable," he passionately explained to me.

"Whoa," I said.

"Yeah. So, look, podnuh... before it's too late and they know there's a traveller in this scumbag hole... you gotta make haste and skedaddle, podnuh. Okay?" he said while putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Not so fast, podnuh," I took the emphasis off of that word, this time, so he knew I was not mocking the way he said it but I said it in a way that he knew that I mutually viewed him as a partner of mine as well.

"...?" he looked at me, inquisitively.

"I'm not going anywhere. For, when scumbags steal decent people's trucks..." I began.

"Hold up, podnuh. I know where you're going with what you're going to say. You don't know what you're getting yourself into and it isn't your business... it's only the business of mine," he said.

"No, podnuh. What's your name by the way?" I asked.

"Cornelius," he responded.

"Look, Cornelius. When scumbags steal good men's trucks.... I make it my business." I said trying to mimic the passion in this man's eyes and fire inside of his courageous heart.

He knew I was for real. He knew I wanted to team up and bust this town up with him. He knew I wanted to mash up some scumbags and make some scumbag stew in this scumbag town. I was already in too deep and I've only walked about 200 steps in this awful town so far.

I needed to get involved. I hate scumbags so much.

"How do we bust 'em up, podnuh?" I asked of my new partner in travels.

"First, man, we gotta eat somethin'... and that's gonna be harder than you think," he explained.

"...and why is that?" I asked.

"Because... this town don't like outsiders and going inside of a restaurant hasn't always been very fun for me these last two weeks... but me and the citizens over here have come to a bit of an arrangement for me to acquire food," he started to explain.

"Okay..." I said... already quite at a loss for words already.

"Come on, podnuh... let's head up the road a bit... there's a place to eat and I'll show you how we can get some stuff," he said.

Me and my new travel companion started to travel. When I lost my two previous travel companions I thought I would do the rest of the journey solo and on my own... but looks like I've befriended a colleague anew. Next stop is the restaurant in this... weird... town.

As we walk together, not side-by-side, but close-enough... we happen upon a small cafe... with a sign so simple it is almost too simple. It read in big white letters on wood... "Cafe"... well... okay. We entered. Cornelius kicked the door open. Whoa, I thought. This guy is brazen.

"CLANG CLANG CLANG! LISTEN TO SOME JINGLE TO THEM BELLS! YOU GOT YOURSELVES A CUSTOMER AGAIN! LOOKS LIKE CORN HAS ARRIVED!" He yelled to the dismay of the clientele and staff who looked very very angry to see him.

I guess they knew him by now since he said he's been here for two weeks, stranded, trying to get a new truck. I guess he came here to eat. The guy manning the register of the cafe, quietly, went to the back and got an unopened package of rice.... about two pounds of rice it looked like from my vantage point ... it also looked like... it was factory sealed. He then went to the fridge and got two six-packs of beer and put them on the counter.

"Factory-sealed. Canned beer. Right? Good! PODNUH! Now here's the money for it," he put some bills on the counter, grabbed the supplies, and promptly left.

I just watched and followed him out as he in a tremendous voice that bellowed around the room began...

"JINGLE BELLS! JINGLE BELLS! JINGLING AAAAAAAAALLL THE WAY! Thank you," he proclaimed as his au revoir to them.

We went up a small hill where he walked to a small fire pit that had a pot and some stones. I really wanted to ask him why the items had to be factory sealed and the beverages canned... so I summoned up the courage and did.

As he started a fire in the pit and started positioning the pot over the fire pit... he opened the rice bag and started pulling two beers off of the six packs. He threw me one, I cracked it open, took a sip, and said...

"Why did you demand that the rice be sealed and the beer be in cans so specifically?" I asked.

"Well, podnuh. It's hard to poison rice that's still factory-sealed... I don't think they have bagging and shipping manufacturing machines in this place... so if it's still in the factory shipped plastic then I know it hasn't been tampered with," he explained to me.

"Tampered with?" I asked.

"Yeah, podnuh. They are MAD as HELL that I haven't given up yet and... at first... I didn't know they were ALL in cahoots and I really thought I could get some food here. I still have bad memories eating the first thing they gave me," he said... very sadly.

"What was it... uh... tampered with?" I said, knowingly uneasy because I hated that word especially in regards to food. It made me queasy just saying it.

"I dunno.... man. Like, you know.... stuff that makes your stomach hurt. Stuff that makes you puke and stuff.... it sucks, man. Stuff that turns your turds to liquid too...." he said as he trailed off into the bad memories of his mind.

"...and why beer specifically in cans and not bottled?" I inquired.

"Well... capping bottles 'aint even hard. They probably have a bottle capper here in this archaic place... they probably have the technology to open bottles and re-cap them..." he started.

I already knew where he was going with his current statement. He wanted the cans so they couldn't... tamper... I still hate that word... with the beverage.

"Hmm... yeah... you're right... it's probably easy to tamper with bottled beer but no so much canned beer...." I said.

"Exactly, man. They can put drugs that mess up your brain so bad in the bottles, man. It is horrible! You ever had a mental breakdown over a damned beverage, podnuh?" he said.

"No, I have not." I responded.

"Well.... I hope you never do either... now let's eat some rice and drink some beer.. get some rest... and then head to Mount Scumbag and kick some ass!" he proclaimed.

"Mount... what?" I said, so puzzled, that this town would even think of naming their mountain Mount Scumbag.

"Come with me to the horizon, my friend..." he said as he guided me to the top of the hill where we could see the mountain.

"Behold... podnuh... Mount Scumbag," he said as he pointed to it.

The sun was just beginning to rise. The autumn sun caressing the mountaintops. I put my hand over my eyes to block out the interfering sunlight and gazed upon its deranged majesty. It was a mountain with three heads carved into it... sort of like Mount Rushmore but a very strange and uneasy version of it... one of the heads was of a very fat woman's face with a pig-like snout. Everything about her face made me think of swine.

"The first face carved into the mountain is Mrs. Scumbag," he explained to me as I basically couldn't believe my eyes that anything this strange could be carved into a mountainside. It was truly grotesque.

I looked at the other two faces carved into the mountain... the next was of a squirrel-faced tiny man's head with buck teeth that jetted out of his mouth. The most awful looking face I have ever seen.

"The next one's ol' Precious O'Scumbag... he's a little dude... but don't under estimate him, he is wiry like a little rusted copper telephone cable," Cornelius informed me as he pointed to the buck-toothed rotten man's squirrelly head.

I moved my gaze to the last face etched into the mountain range... it was a terribly skinny face.. almost a man of pure bone's face.. carved there... an emaciated man with a tiny little moustache. I didn't want to even believe there could be such ugly human faces carved so intricately into an actual mountain. It was so deranged of a sight it was just beyond fascinating to me rather than frightening at this point.

"...and the last one. The last of the Triangle of Scumbags... Mr. Crackhead de la Cracksmoke.... the biggest crackhead in all of Lake Scumbag..." he explained to me with fear buried deep inside of his eyes.

I was beginning to think getting this guy a new truck was going to be more than I bargained for...

To Be Continued....



Author's Note: Okay, so, it's fun, I guess so far. I have no idea how this story shall go from here but, I know how my brain functions, and I can tell you 100% that there's no way these three villainous villains aren't going to voltron-morph into a gigantic final boss.



...I had a dream as I rested in a sleeping bag Mr. Cornelius provided for me after we ate the rice and drank six beers each. His rice was pretty good. He had a cooking pot, some butter, some oil, some onions, and some eggs from the day before to add to the rice he made for me. It was so good that I drifted so soundly off to sleep that I dreamed the most smooth and good dreams until they were interrupted by terrible nightmares.

At first I dreamed of nice things... things like sports and stuff... but they were interrupted by these terrible faces and voices. It was almost like my mind wanted my sleeping self to predict unto itself what those faces on the mountain would look like and speak like in real life and it was not fun for me.

Imagine eating tasty rice and drinking untampered-with beer, falling asleep, dreaming that you were having fun engaging in a display of healthy competitive sport and exercise... and then three horrific monsters just started screaming at you and trying to murder you?

It sucked but then I woke up. I looked around and remembered I was in this Scumbag of a lake of a town... I looked around for my new friend but couldn't find him just yet. I thought back to the other two people I journeyed with along the way... I had made two friends previously on this journey... a young man with a speech impediment named Wesley who turned out to be a ghost who died in a building fire and a fellow from Connecticut who called himself Connecticut.

Wesley? Well, one day in Thunder Bay, I looked behind me as I was walking down the highway, expecting to see him with his can picking-up-stick stabbing cans to put in in his hobo gunny satchel like usual... and he was gone. My ghost friend disappeared without a trace and his whereabouts are currently unknown.

As for ol' Connecticut? Well, I got annoyed with him one afternoon, and ditched him. I woke up earlier than him and made for the open road while he remained sleeping like an over-weight but innocent man-child. You might think of me as mean of a man for ditching him but... I read that book where that guy chokes the rabbits and I don't want to willingly enter into a situation like that under my own doing on this journey.

"Wakey! Wakey-Wakey! Wakey-Wakey-Wakey! Time for some fried Eggs n' some BAKEY!" I heard Cornelius bellow in a voice which at first I thought was horribly too loud but now I was beginning to find that it sounded pretty cool.

He was hitting a frying pan and putting a plate of eggs and bacon in front of my sleepy face. It smelled soooo gooood. I couldn't wait to eat it... 

Thinking to myself... I knew I was in for the long haul with this dude on his mission. I was going to help him get a new truck no matter what. This guy brought me food... and not only did he bring me food but the food was really good too.

After travelling with two people who, not to be mean, but... were sort of dumb... it was refreshing to partner up with a resourceful person for a change.

I looked at him and he looked really sad as he ate. I wanted to ask him why but I didn't want to sound like a moron when I asked it because I already know that scumbags not only have apprehended this man's truck but have gutted it for parts... so I know why he's sad but... I got to say something.

"How's it going?" I asked... feeling stupid but not that stupid.

"Maaaaaaaan, my spleen hurts, maaaaaaaaaaaaaaan," he responded holding his abdomen.

"From the tampered food they gave you?" I asked.

"Yeah, podnuh. I'm only operating at, I'd say, 70% right now, podnuh... that's why I didn't attack their lair yet... but naw... but naw... but NAW that you showed up and got my back we can do this thang!" he told me.

"I'm not as a brazen a man as you, Cornelius..." I started before he stopped me.

"Podnuh... call me Corn," he interjected.

"Okay, Corn, where's their lair?" I asked.

"I've been gathering intel over the last two weeks before I hit this lick, son, and, these scumbags have a cave under Mount Scumbag where they convene," he said.

"How did you get this information? None of the scumbags here seem to like to talk to you very much from I gathered from the cafe," I asked.

"They do... but... you have to get them all worked up first. Now they just give me my supplies without a word but before they used to tell me stuff like... 'if Mrs. Scumbag knows an outsider is in Lake Scumbag she's going to be pretty upset!' and stuff like that... and I was like 'Oh? Mrs. Who?' and they'd tell me more stuff ... she seems to be the ring leader," he explained.

"Hmm... so how do we get into their lair? I doubt we can just waltz on in," I asked.

"There's two fortifications installed on the only road into Mount Scumbag..." he started to say before I interjected.

"Fortifications!?" I interjected.

"Yeah, podnuh... I did some recon, man, and there's two outposts before the lair. One has a sign that reads, Supply Outpost of the Official Fully-Queen-Entrusted Regal Canadian Horse Police..." he began.

"They still exist!?" I exclaimed in quite the clamor.

"I guess so... that's what the sign says. The other one don't even have a sign, though. My intel says it's an unmarked black site not known on any official maps. One of the lesser scumbags down at the Scumyard told me something like, 'The Commandant' is gonna take me to 'The Garrison' if I don't leave Lake Scumbag soon... and I'm filling in the blanks that the second fortification prior to Mount Scumbag is a black site called 'The Garrison' or some shit," he continued.

"Hmmmm... so before we even get into the lair we have to bypass two fortifications?" I asked pretending I knew what I was talking about, and saying it coolly, so I didn't seem like a silly person who was in way over his head.

"Yeah man. I have my course of action planned out..." he started.

I wanted to sound cool, again, and make him think I was a cool guy so I turned his term "course of action" into a an ad-hoc acronym so that I sounded so cool to him or so I hoped.

"...yeah. Your C.O.A.... right," I ever-so-coolingly said.

He looked annoyed at me but continued.

"Many of them Horse Police have come to my campsite over the last two weeks. Three kinds basically. One kind roughs you up a bit, one kind just pretends to be intimidating to me because they don't have the backbone to rough me up none, and then this one dude... this one dude looked at me with eyes so sincere... like he wanted to escape this town too... and he didn't beat me or intimidate me... and the next day he brought me bacon and eggs. This dude is our way in," he said.

"So, one of the Horse Police can help us?" I asked.

"I hope so. Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, podnuh. I really hope so," he said.

"How do we get into contact with him?" I inquired.

"He told me I got to meet him today at our secret rendezvous site in the woods up over yonder. He's gonna set me up with two Smith n' Wessons... n' some bluing salts," he told me as I nodded and pretended to know what a Smith, Wesson, or bluing salts were.

"Uh.... okay, yeah," I nodded.

"Yeh, yeah, yeaah. Yeh, and once I blue up and carbone up my Smith'n'wesson I'm gonna bust some caps into some scumbags!" he proclaimed.

Oh! It's guns! Cool. I didn't know he talking about guns! I thought because of the word salt it was some sort of bomb or like food or something.

"Come on man, it's time, leave the plate I gave you for your breakfast here. They know now that this campsite is my territory and they don't come here. Come on... I gotta meet him in the woods up there, come now naw..." he told me.

I followed him up the ways over yonder to a wooded area. The trees were in full autumn glow, red, yellow, and brown. One tree was all yellow without even a hint of any other shade of color. It was so nice. The fall trees were so beautiful that I almost forgot I was walking behind a scorned-man hell-bent on vengeance... and that I was going to meet a supposed rogue member of the Royal whatever-thing Mounted Queen-Brigaded Horse Policemen to procure munitions.

Suddenly! The sound of numerous crunching leaves and the snapping of branches could be heard! We turned to our peripheral rights and saw a man stumbling and falling down the dirt road! He stumbled right into me but I caught him and proceeded to right-him upwards to a once-again standing position...

...he straightened his back, saluted, and said...

"Lo! Citizen! 'Tis me! The most affable man in thine majesty's very own Official Fully-Queen-Entrusted Regal Canadian Horse Police! How art thou? Sorry for the tumble and thank you for straightening me. My name is Dudley Bozo of the..." he said.

"Official Fully-Queen-Entrusted Regal Canadian Horse Police?" I finished his sentence while rolling my eyes.


The Be Continued....

"Yes! 'tis I! 'tis I! I have come to rendezvous with thee Sir Cornelius. I have procured thine munitions from our stockpile and wish to entrust them to you," he said.

He was a straight-laced man with blonde sideburns etching out from underneath his stetson hat. His uniform was red like deep vermilion. He had many ties and belts straightened around various parts of his body, even one around his stetson hat. He was in many ways a very laced-up and straight-laced fellow.

"You got my stuff, man? Two Smith'n'wessons and my bluin' salts?" asked my new friend Corn.

"Of course! I made haste to our secret spot as soon as I stole... I mean... as soon as I liberated them from our munitions armoury," Dudley said.

He gave Corn the guns. They looked cool. Corn inspected them, looked inside the barrels, cocked them up a few times and thanked Dudley.

"Thanks, man. Now come on... let's get back to the campsite so I can blue 'em naw," he said.

We started walking back to Corn's campsite. He was a few feet in front of me and Dudley as he walked at a more feverish  pace than us, excited to get back to camp, and "blue" his guns... which I still wasn't sure what that meant but it sounded kind of cool nonetheless.

I struck up a conversation, as we walked, with Dudley.

"Say, Dudley..." I began before he stopped me.

"Sir Dudley. I am a high ranking official in the Horse Police, kind sir. I shall be addressed by my official rank at all times," he corrected me.

"Okay, say... uh.... sir Dudley... why are you helping Corn acquire guns to get his truck back?" I asked while saying his rank in a demurred manner.

"For I cannot sit idly by whilst the forces of corruption reign! This town has succumbed to ROT. It has tarnished mine honour being assignethed here. I graduated mine Horse Police college with doubly-honoured accolades! I was considered as the finest man in the entirety of the college! I received A+ on my Shooting whilst on Horseback exam... I received A+ on my Horse Grooming exam... I received A+ on my Cudgelling whilst on Horseback exam..." he started to explain before I interrupted him.

"Uh... cudgelling whilst on horseback?" I asked in hopes for clarification on a strange term he used.

"Oh yes, mine friend. That is the last final exam. You must beat men with thine Royal Queen-Entrusted Beating Stick. Would you like to see mine Beating Stick?" he asked me with glowing eyes... he seemed to be very proud of his beating stick.

"Why's it called a stick? Why not call it your beating cudgel if you passed the cudgelling while on horseback exam?" I asked half-jokingly.

"Why sir... don't be silly. We have referred to our Beating Sticks as such for almost one and one-half centuries. Don't be silly, sir," he told me.

"Why not a beating rod?" I asked now full-jokingly.

"A beating rod? Why, sir, do thy jest? Surely a man of my caliber would never refer to his prized Beating Stick as a mere rod. That is the most ludicrous thing mine ears have ever heard! Hahahaha," he laughed.

He pulled a sheath from his waistcoat... at first I thought it looked cool... that he had a sheath on his waist like he was gonna unsheathe a samurai sword or something... but when he unsheathed his weapon... it was just that... a beating stick.

"Tah-Dah! Mine Beating Stick!" he said.

I wanted to pretend to be impressed but I couldn't muster the will to. I was still sleepy...

"Uhhhh... are you sure that isn't a truncheon?" I over-jokingly asked.

"Sir! A truncheon!? Why no! These Beating Sticks are sent to her Majesty's own personal guard to christen them with sacred lacquers! These Beating Sticks have been entrusted to us by her regal Majesty herself!" he corrected me.

"Didn't the Queen pass away, though? Shouldn't they be called your royal King-Entrusted Beating Rods... I mean Sticks... now?" I asked.

"Sir...I... oh....um... yes... well... yes... you do in fact have a point there, yes, yes...." he said with his eagerness to tell me about his Beating Stick slowly diminishing.

"Okay, enough about your beating thing... can you tell me more about why you're aiding Corn?" I asked.

"Why yes, mine kind fellow. I have to do something. This town, as I said, is ROT. Rot to the very core of itself. It is corruption absolute! I was assigned, firstly, after graduating Horse Police college to the western armoury in British Columbia..." he explained.

"British Columbia? Where's that again like in South America or?" I asked but then remembered Vancouver is actually in a place named British Columbia and felt really dumb.

"Of course, the armoury in British Columbia but soon I was transferred to our armoury in Lake Scumbag. I enjoyed my position in the Queen's British Columbia very much... but... whence I was transferred here... I..." Dudley explained.

Every time he said that term, "British Columbia", I began to feel that it was a very strange thing when he said this. It was never strange to me before though. I've said it over the years like 'Vancouver's in British Columbia, Ms. Teacher'... but hearing him say it made the term sound so formal that... that... what is a British Columbia is all could think of? It sounds odd.

"I... I began... as soon as I began my new position in this region... I... I started to notice things," Dudley continued.

"Things?" I asked.

"Yes... things. I firstly was greatly disturbed by the ugly facades upon the mountain range... and nextly I was deeply frustrated by how rude everyone in town was... and thirdly I was really not prepared for the Moose Men," he said.

"The... moose men?" I asked.

"Why yes. They conduct terrible human experiments here in the underground lair... they splice the moosemaglobins of moose with the hemoglobins of man... to create chimeras... and..." he began.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whooooa.... whoooooa.... hold the phone there Dudley... wait a second... they do what?" I exclaimingly startled.

"They conduct horrific experiments on humans! They are breeding an army of Moose Men. Half-man and half-moose men who are terribly strong but kind of dumb..." he explained before Corn interjected.

"We back! My campsite is still untouched by the hands of scumbags. They know not to mess with me anymore! Come on, podnuhs, let's blue these guns!" Corn said.

Corn took his pot and poured water and the bluing salts in to it. He brought it to a boil...

"Damn right. Gotta blue these babies up! No one gonna catch me busting caps in scumbag asses with an unpolished service man's revolver! These service man's revolvers need to look SHARP when I bust these caps!" He proudly proclaimed as he polished his newly acquired guns.

I was conflicted, honestly. As cool as the guns looked that Corn was bluing... I couldn't forget what Dudley told me previously. Especially the word "moosemaglobins" which is one of the weirdest terms I've ever heard even weirder sounding than British Columbia. I guess it's a scientific way to say moose blood, I guess. They were splicing moose blood with human blood to create a race of moose men to do their bidding... my gosh... this town is strange... maybe I should bounce while I still can... no wait... these guns he's polishing with his campfire boiled bluing salts look so cool... I can't bounce... I want to see him use these guns. Are we going to have to shoot Moose people? Whoa... this might be really fun.

"Well, DAMN! These Smith'n'wessons look nice! Podnuh, now we gonna have some fun up in here!" said Corn.

Dudley approached Corn holding neatly folded clothing... I moved closer to see what they were. They were uniforms similar to his, deep vermilion red clothes, with many fasteners and belts, and stetson hats.

"These are the uniforms you requested... I brought three... large, medium, and small... you choose the one that fits best, Sir Cornelius," Dudley said as he handed him the uniforms.

"Big be too big and small be too small... but this medium size is juuuuuuuust right," Corn said as he put on his OFQERCHP uniform.

"Chooseth thine, sir," Dudley instructed me as he handed me two uniforms of the Off Qerk HPs.

As Corn said, one was way too small for me and one was way too big. So, I had to choose to either infiltrate an outpost in a uniform that snugly cut off my circulation or one that hanged over my limbs and I stepped on while I walked.

I thought long and hard about this conundrum. If it's too tight then I can't fight... but if it's too long I'll trip over it as I walk. Hmmm... what to do.....what to do? Wait! I know I'll wear the too-small pants so I don't trip over them and the too-big top so I can just roll up the sleeves! I'm so smart sometimes!

"Alright, podnuhs.... play time is over... it's time to mash this club up!" Corn said with the will of a champion.


To Be Continued....


Corn began running at a pell-mell rate up the hill, over the bend, and past the horizon head-first into combat! Myself and Dudley Bozo began to run after him to try and keep up with his pell-mell rate of terrific perambulation up the hill!

We ran for what felt like a mile. I couldn't run anymore... I was too excited and lost my breath and almost fainted from the exercise. We hadn't even done anything yet and I was already sweating and tired.

"Scumbags! Dead Center! Twelve O'Clock! I'll neutralize them! You guys provide back-up!" Corn exclaimed in a combative clamor!

Six scumbag guards were indeed right in front of us... they wore fall-colored fatigues to blend into the season. I barely even noticed them due to their camouflage. They were smoking cigarettes and looking at their cell phones.

Corn ran up to them with no fear, dual-wielding Smith and Wessons, he sprang up high into the air and shouted...

"Gun tech! Rain of Bullets!" he labelled his shooting technique as he opened fire.

BANG! BANG! BANG! The sound was deafening to my ears as he rained bullets unto three guards who instantly dropped their cell phones and hit the floor! The cigarettes still hanging from their mouths.

"Hostile scumbags... pacified!" He victoriously shouted as he landed back on the ground.

Just then Dudley unsheathed his beating stick from his waist and joined the melee!

"Tasteth mine Beating Stick, scumbag!" He shouted as he leapt and smashed his cudgel-like weapon onto the scumbag's head!

"Four down n' two to go! Gun Tech! Dual Wield! Geomijul Death Strike!" Corn announced his next gun technique as he fired both revolvers at once.

POW! POW! He only needed two bullets and two shots simultaneously to take down two more scumbags.

"All targets pacified...." Corn said informing us the threat was over.

Just then a seventh guard who was taking a big leak in the brush noticed the clamor, zipped his fly, and ran into the engagement! He was brandishing a knife! Oh no! He was coming straight towards me!

I panicked. I did not have a weapon and had never had a man run at me brandishing a knife before! My life was flashing before my very own eyes. My journey was over...

...or was it? My mind dashed inside of itself... it thought about all of the wrestling I used to watch on TV as a kid. I knew I had to act and I had to act fast.

"DIE!" yelled the scumbag as he lurched towards me with the bladed weapon.

I grabbed his right writst, which was holding the knife and pulled him towards me... and with my other arm I grabbed his neck and announced my move...

"Wrestle Tech! Choke Slam!" I announced as I choke slammed the scumbag into the hard ground!

I didn't know what to do next so I just pretended that wasn't the first time I ever choke-slammed someone so I just took a page from Corn's book and copied exactly what he just said...

"Hostile pacified," I pretended to proudly declare as my hands shook like brittle fall leaves.

"Another scumbag in the dirt. Great job, podnuh!" Corn congratulated me.


Official Post-Battle Report
-----------------------------------

Scumbag Kill Count:

Cornelius: 5
Dudley: 1
Me: 1

Experience gained: 46 exp.

Cornelius gained a level! He is now level 8.
Dudley gained a level! He is now level 7.
I gained a level! I am now level 2.

I learned Wrestle Tech - Choke Slam!

-----------------------------------

Corn and Dudley waved their weapons around, above their heads, in a victory celebration! I stuck my hand in the air! We all high fived and it was cool!

Cornelius clutched his abdomen!

"Arrrrgh....my spleen, man. Aaaaaaaaaaaaooooow.... my spleen. It hurts," he said in great pain and terrible agony.

Dudley and myself rushed to his aid before he fell down...

"Art thou alright, sir Cornelius?" Asked Dudley with frightened eyes.

"Yeah, podnuh... it's just... we better keep moving... I don't know how long until my spleen gives out, son," he said.

"The outpost is only a hop and a jump from here, Sir Cornelius, it is nothing more than a short hike up the trail," assured Dudley.

After we calmed down from the victory and made sure Corn could walk again... we continued up the beautiful fall trail that was hinted every step with an assortment of wonderful fall colors that were beautiful to our eyes. Red, yellow, auburn, and van dyke brown leaves scattered ever-so beautifully on the dirt road with specks of green hither and dither.

"Ah... the splendour of the fall. Such captivating colours, I must say. It, very much, reminds me of my youth... frolicking in the countryside with mine grand-papa," said Dudley as he enjoyed the view as we walked.

"Yeh... man... it does... it reminds me of the fall back in Detroit. Yeh... man... it was so nice. We used to shoot AK-47s at the branches to get them mawfuggahs to fall off faster. Aw, the sweetness of nostalgia, oh yes... oh yes indeed..." said Corn.

I had to stop for a second and just ponder the totally different backgrounds these two men were from. Their youths must've been so different but in many ways... the same.


To Be Continued....

"Ah... and let us reminisce on All Hallow's Ween as well," reminisced Dudley.

"I used to love that, podnuh... Halloween, man? It's the best," said Corn as he and Dudley bonded.

I like Halloween too. One year I remember I was a Ghostbuster and my belt kept falling down. One year I was Papa Shango and no one knew who I was until I was walking down the road, trick and/or treating, and these cool older kids yelled "PAPA SHANGO!" and I felt cool because older kids thought I was cool and my friends saw the older kids complimenting my costume in the street... and in turn... they as well thought I was cool.

"Yo, one time, I dressed as Blade and went to this party, man... and I made it with two different chicks that night," bragged Corn.

"Surely thy jest, kindeth Cornelius... I, for one fateful All Hallow's Ween... dressed up as Sir Isaac Brock the first officiating Guernseyman of Lower-to-Mid Canada.... and kissed three different maidens on the back of the hand," counter-bragged Dudley.

"I, uh, one time... I dressed up as a Franciscan Monk... but my habit was way too long... and I fell down a flight of stairs and broke my ankle," I quipped.

"Hahahaha," laughed Corn at my past misfortune.

"Hahahaha," laughed Dudley at my past misfortune as well.

We arrived at the Outpost... Corn bent down and brushed some dirt off of the sign post... it read Official Fully-Queen-Entrusted Regal Canadian Horse Police - Intelligence Branch. The intelligence branch? Hmmmm. Was that, like, what I think it means?

"Intelligence branch? Is this like the Canadian CIA or some shit?" asked Corn.

"Why of course, Sir Cornelius, mine fine chap. This is Upper Canada's official Intelligence Branch where we keep all the files on all our beautiful citizens. We are the most well-smart and most-trusted intelligence service in the land," explained Dudley.

"Wait... are you saying the Horse Police really are the Canadian version of the CIA?" I asked hoping he was joking but at this point I knew it was true.

"Yes," said Dudley matter-of-factly like I was the only person on earth who didn't know this.

"Yo, smooth Dudz... does that mean they have intel files on the Triangle?" asked Corn.

The Triangle... those faces on the mountain that gave me the creeps. I was interested in knowing more about them myself.

"Most assuredly, fine chap... and I know exactly where they are. Isn't that convenient? All we have to do is bypass security clearance and infiltrate the Official File Cabinet," explained Dudley.

"Is that the software the Horse Police have called their database on their... computer system?" I asked in a hoping manner that Upper Canada's Intelligence Branch had computers.

"Why no... it is a large room, ordered alphabetically, of many many grey and beige filing cabinets, which all carry the official seal of her Royal Majesty," he explained.

"Alright, podnuhs, so the current mission is to infiltrate this outpost and secure the intel files of The Triangle from her Royal Majesty's filing cabinets?" asked Corn as confirmation.

"Exactly, sir Cornelius... and we must make haste for all of the main regimen is out for brunch at this hour and only two members should be guarding the facility," informed Dudley.

"Operation requires stealth, podnuhs, I 'aint gonna be busting too many caps up in here due to the noise. I hope you two can handle any... hostile elements," asked Corn.

"Rest assured, fine Corn, mine Beating Stick remains always at the ready!" bragged Dudley.

We quietly walked in and waved at the Horse Police receptionist who gave us weird looks but let us by. We walked to the first revolving door which required security clearance to advance. A guard saluted and asked us...

"What is the password!" demanded the guard.

"Oh give me a break, Sgt. MacDonaldson, it's me! Dudley! Let me by!" said Dudley.

"I am not allowed to fraternize with other people! I know not of you, Dudley. You are not my friend, at all," responded the up-tight guard.

"You must let me pass! I haven't been here for a few days and I don't know which password was issued at morning briefings!" whined Dudley.

"Be on your way! You cannot enter the official room that holds thine Majesty's filing cabinets!" shouted the guard who began to reach for his waist-sheath which I assumed contained a Beating Stick.

This wasn't going well. This guard would beat Dudley with his rod, I mean stick, if he didn't know the password. I felt bad for Dudley... having to work in a field such as this.

Just then Dudley shouted something.

"Look over there, Sgt. MacDonaldson! It is a Prime Official of the Dominion!" exclaimed Dudley.

"A PRIME OFFICIAL OF THE DOMINION!? WHERE!? WHERE!? I MUST STRAIGHTEN MY COLLAR-COAT STRAP!" yelled the guard in shock and awe.

Without a moment to spare, when the guard turned to his peripheral left... Dudley struck him with his Beating Stick squarely on the noggin! The man tumbled in a heap!

"Fear not, chums, this man is only stunned for I didn't use the full force of mine death blow," Dudley explained as he dragged the man's unconscious body to a nearby bathroom and threw him on a toilet and shut the stall door.

"Nice one, Dudz, now let's go!" instructed the bold Cornelius.

We ran very fast into the area that had Upper Canada's filing cabinets! There were so many too. Grey ones and beige ones that went on forever... I couldn't see the end of them. We needed three files... Mrs. Scumbag, Precious O'Scumbag, and Crackhead de la Cracksmoke. We agreed to split up and locate one intel file each.

I went for the last one, the Cracksmoker guy's file... it was in the Cs. I pulled it out and started to read it...


Name: Crackhead de la Cracksmoke
Aliases: None
Weak to: Flashbang grenades

Known for: Smoking copious amounts of crack cocaine like it's nothing but a damned cigar, and boy, does he enjoy it... he has a swell time at it.

Background: Sheecootameemeeh'meh, Quebec

Special Attacks: Unknown. Kills so stealthily that no one even knows they are being killed as a wave of cracksmoke fills their vision blinding them... the last thing his victim sees ... is crack smoke.

Notes: Approach with caution.


Strange... they don't seem to have much information on his special moves... only that he appears in a cloud of crack smoke and kills without being seen. Spooky stuff.

Meanwhile at the other end of the large room, Corn, found the next file... which he read out loud to us...


Name: Precious O'Scumbag
Aliases: Little Dipshit, Squirrel-Boy, Le Lievre
Weak to: Caltrops, Shrapnel

Known for: Small wiry physique that lets him move fast, avoid detection, and act like an all-around little menace. A very annoying person. Everyone hates him, a lot.

Background: Dirtville, Ontario

Special Attacks: Squirrel Bite, Mole Scratch, Weirdo-Punch.

Notes: Approach with caution. Don't be fooled by his small stature. Highly highly dangerous.

"Dang, podnuhs, we gonna deal with some weird people before I get myself a new truck, I think," said Corn.

Meanwhile at another location in the room of endless cabinets came Dudley's voice shouting to us that he had found the last intel file... he began to read aloud...

Name: Mrs. Scumbag
Aliases: Pig Demon, Hell Pig, The Masked Swine
Weak to: No Weaknesses

Known for: Horrific behavior. Unclean body. Nourishes self on pig's vomit. Soulless monster who sold her twisted soul and blood to Satan in exchange for demonic pig-related spiritual energy that she can manifest in many frightening manners.

Background: Arsehole, Ontario

Special Attacks: Swine related power moves. Spiritual energies. Projectile vomiting.

Notes: DO NOT APPROACH AT ANY COST!


"Uhhhh....." said Dudley with eyes laden in fear.

Damn.... looks like we're not in Kansas anymore... are we?


To Be Continued....



We made our clandestined exit from the outpost, we waved goodbye to the Horse Police receptionist, who gave us another dirty look.

"What's her problem, cool Dudz?" asked Corn of Dudley.

"She's a bit of a prickly one, I must say, she is not very friendly... like everyone else in this town," Dudley answered.

We continued up the path towards the next fortification. The only thing Corn told me about our next destination on our journey was that it was a "black site" I think he called it. I'm not, like, 100% sure, what that is... but I think I've heard people say it in movies before. I think it's something like a Guantanamo type of thing, kind of a deal, I think. I don't know. He said it was administered by a man called the Commandant... which sounds very official.

We took off our uniforms and changed back into our civilian clothing.

As we approached our next destination we heard a rustling in the brush! Oh, what could it be? A small rodent of some sort scurried into a bush! It caught itself a large grub worm and began feasting upon it. I couldn't make out what the animal looked like inside of the bush but the sounds it made as it ate the grub worm were not pleasant to say the least.

It threw the half eaten carcass of the grub worm out of the bush and scurried off. It circled around us from the rear and scurried up a tree... it called out to us in a rodent-like voice...

"We know what you're up to! She knows you're coming to our lair! Hee hee!" the mammal called to us.

"Show yourself!" said Corn with readied revolvers.

"If you guys can make it through the Garrison you can have the pleasure of being killed by us! Hee Hee! So long... suckers! In the meantime... here's some friends of mine to keep you company," said the mammal as it scurried off into the brush and out of sight.

Friends? I thought. Suddenly, a group of scumbags sprang from their concealed locations! There were five scumbags hidden behind trees and rocks! They charged at us with murderous intent!

"Battle formation!" instructed Corn.

Two guards sprang towards us with sticks!

"Let me handle them!" proudly said Dudley.

Dudley engaged with two scumbags simultaneously! He parried with his Beating Stick and countered with thrusts and swings towards the assailants. He made an upwards swing which sent one of the scumbags sticks flying in the air! It landed with a thud! Dudley stepped on it breaking it in two! 

"You call that a Beating Stick!? This is a Beating Stick!" he shouted as he swung his blunt weapon downward towards the scumbag's head. His head was fractured in many places and he died.

Dudley now focused on the second scumbag assailant! He kicked him in the crotch sending the scumbag to his knees in human agony! Dudley then smashed his Beating Stick unto the man's skull, fracturing it, and sending pieces of skull whistling through the air!

Two more scumbags lurched at me with barbed poles! They sunk into my clothes! Oh no! Ah! These barbs on these poles are entering my skin! Ah! I can't move! Ah!

"Don't move, podnuh," said Corn as he aimed his revolvers towards me.

"I can't! They have me barbed up with their barbed poles! I can't move!" I said.

"Gun Tech! Pinpoint Trigger!" he announced his gun technique as he shot one of the scumbags through the head which killed the scumbag instantly.

The other scumbag panicked and put me in a sleeper hold! He was completely behind me which cut off any line-of-sight Corn could achieve on the target.

"Damn! I can't get a clear shot! Not even my Pinpoint Trigger can hit him! Oh no!" he said.

I knew if I was going to survive I'd have to think fast. I ducked down to my knees and while he still tried to strangle me to death... I put my head under his legs and hoisted him unto my shoulders! He was now in the open! He was atop my shoulders, strangling me, in plain sight!

"Hold on, fine Corn! Letteth me make the death blow!" said Dudley.

Dudley climbed up onto a tree branch, pointed his cudgel to the sky, and yelled...

"Flying Clothesline Cudgel!" he yelled as he leapt off the tree branch and whacked the scumbag, atop my shoulders, right in his moronic face. The man was instantly dead.

The final scumbag knew he was greatly outnumbered and turned to flee! Corn wasn't prepared to let him escape and return with more scumbags as back-up... he pointed his Smith and Wesson in his right hand right at the man's bottom as he ran away from us in a panic...

"Pinpoint Trigger!" he announced as he shot the man in flight... squarely in his anus. The man shot blood from his anus until he promptly died from loss of blood.

Victory!


Official Post-Battle Report
-----------------------------------

Scumbag Kill Count:

Cornelius: 7
Dudley: 4
Me: 1

Experience gained: 33 exp.

I gained a level! I am now level 3.

Dudley and I have learned - Combination Attack - Mounted Flying Clothesline Cudgel!

-----------------------------------

We were going to high five and celebrate but something was afoot. An unusual uneasiness was setting upon us like a wave of malfeasance. Oh, what could it be?

We began to smell something... it smelled odd. We used our noses to try and turn to where it was coming from but we couldn't find the source of the smell.

A cloud of smoke was slowly but surely surrounding us... we began to hear an odd voice call out to us as the smoke cloud grew more thick and our vision diminished.

"Hon-hon, hon-hon, hooooon... come intoooooo the smooooooooooooke," the voice echoed in our ears.

"It's crack smoke, podnuhs! Stay out of the crack smoke! Run!" instructed Corn.

We began to hurriedly run away from impending doom but the crack smoke followed us! Oh no! It cannot be! It kept gaining and gaining on us! Corn pointed his guns at the crack smoke!

"No! Sir Corn! Don't waste ammunition without a clear shot! I shan't be able to acquire more bullets easily! Please conserve ammo!" suggested Dudley.

"Good point, smooth brotha, I can't get a read or a beat on this damned crack head!" said Corn annoyed at the situation.

"I could give him, like uh, Dragon Suplex, or something... but... I can't see him either," I mentioned.

"Hon-hon, hon-hoooon, hon! Come into the smooooke with me little lambs!" said the voice in the crack smoke.

"No way, you big weirdo!" I yelled to the crack smoke.

Just then... a second cloud of smoke approached! It was a different hue and a different consistency than the dirty crack smoke. It was a cloud of smoke that smelled good! Like fine cigars! It smelled like tobacco! It enveloped us too! Now, we were trapped in two different clouds of smoke... one which was gross and one which smelled good.

The two clouds of smoke began speaking to each other...

"Golden Fox! What are you doing here!? I thought you were dead!" said the voice in the crack smoke to the voice in the tobacco smoke.

"This is MY LAND, white man! You know this! Do not come near my cabin!" said the voice in the tobacco smoke... who seemed to be named Golden Fox.

"Golden Fox! Why you! Mother dearest let you live but you are not allowed to interfere with our business! These outsiders must die!" said the crack head in the crack smoke.

"That is a lie! None of you could defeat me in combat! My powers are too strong! I agreed that I wouldn't interfere with you scumbags as long as you stayed clear from my cabin! Why are you on MY LAND... white man!? Speak!" yelled the intimidating man surrounded entirely by tobacco smoke.

I was watching two guys surrounded in smoke argue with each other.

"I will turn back, for now... but listen my little lambs... as soon as you are off of Golden Fox's land... you will be my prey once again... bide your time on this earth my lambs... for soon you shall be fresh for slaughter," said the horrible voice in the crack smoke.

The ugly, smelly, dense cloud of smoke sauntered off into the horizon and out of our sight. Next the nice, rich aroma, light cloud of smoke started to dissipate as well... and before us stood a mighty man...

...Golden Fox. The man that saved our lives.


To Be Continued...


Golden Fox circled around us individually and sniffed our clothes one by one to get a read on us.

"You smell like... Horse Police," he said of Dudley.

"You smell like... urban dweller," he said of Corn's scent.

He approached me next, that's when I noticed he had no eyes, and I realized I had never seen an eyeless man before. They were not even slits... just holes... holes that were filled with tobacco smoke. His eye holes smelled kind of good... which weirded me out a lot.

"You smell like... hmmm...," said Golden Fox the eyeless man.

"Like what?" I wondered.

"Like... east," he said.

East? Yeah... I guess. This guy was pretty odd... I took the time to get a better look at his clothes and person as he smelled me. He wore brown leather pants and a brown leather jacket... and he had a tomahawk hanging from his belt. The tomahawk had feathers attached to it.

"Sons... come to my cabin... I have bourbon and cigars there... come," Golden Fox instructed.

We followed him to his cabin which was not that far away. He walked, always feeling trees along the way, probably because he was blind and had no eyes... so he sort of wondered on his land by memory... and by feeling memorable trees on the path.

It was a log cabin made of big wooden logs with a green painted roof. We all walked in and looked around. It was such a nice cabin it was all wood, it smelled like wood too, and it was relaxing to be in a house for a change.

"Sons... come... let's drink bourbon and smoke some fine cigars," said Golden Fox as he handed us glasses and cigars.

We all took turns thanking him for not only saving our lives but for giving us bourbon and cigars.

"I saw you shoot that scumbag in the butthole... that was really good for me to see. I knew you guys were my kind of guys," he said.

Wait... saw? He had no eyes. He cannot see. What's he up to?

"What do you mean you saw me do that, podnuh? You 'aint got no eyes," asked Corn confused.

"I see what the spirits and the smoke tell me to see..." he answered enigmatically.

"Hmm, yes. So, who's that crackhead? Was that Crackhead de la Cracksmoke?" I asked.

"Yeah," said Golden Fox taking a sip of fine bourbon and then taking a long haul of his cigar.

"How can we fight a man we cannot see? It is not an advantageous situation," said Dudley as he sat down on a fine wooden chair.

"You want to fight him? Sons... turn back," Golden Fox suggested.

"We can't! Those scumbags gutted my truck for parts! I need to achieve revenge on the unforgiveable!" exclaimed Corn.

"Myself as well! They turned my sweet Lillington into a...." started Dudley.

".....?" I thought, hmm, there was more to why Dudley became a turn-coat than he made us aware of.

"Your sweet Lillington?" asked Golden Fox.

"Yes, my first true love... and only true love. We shared soft summer kisses only but a few months ago... we were to be wed... but..." Dudley started to tell us before tears began streaming from his forlorn eyes.

"But... what?" I asked.

"She became... a failed experiment," Dudley continued.

"Hmmmm.... a failed chimera? Hmmm, son, I know your pain," said Golden Fox.

"You do?" asked Dudley, saddened, as he sipped bourbon and smoked.

"Yes... many friends of mine... became Moose Men or some even worse... as you say... failed experiments... left mutated beyond form... to roam the wastelands to wail terrible screams into the night sky for the remainder of their days..." said Golden Fox.

"They... they took my Lillington... my only true love... the woman who captured my heart... they her stole from me whilst we slept and ran into the night. I followed suit and tried to save her. They took her to the Garrison... I used my security clearance to enter... that's... that's when... I saw the hideous psychological experiments they were conducting... and the moosemaglobins... they were splicing... to create an army of mutant humanized moose," sadly Dudley told us.

"That's unforgivable..." re-iterated Corn at the level of unforgivableness of the current situation we all found ourselves in.

"Sons... you may rest here... tomorrow I shall test your strength... if you can last three rounds with me in the smoke of my tobacco... I will lend you my aid. I will help you defeat these scumbags...." said Golden Fox.

"Thanks, G," said Corn.

We spent the rest of the night drinking, smoking, and playing cards. Golden Fox won most games which was impressive since he couldn't see which cards he was holding but, I guess, he could somehow sense which cards he had... or spirits of the wind whispered which cards they were to him... wait, that's CHEATING. Whatever... I still had fun.

The next morning we all woke up and went outside... it was damp and rainy. Great...I guess we have to duel this man in the rain as well as his mysterious cloud of tobacco smoke.

Corn agreed not to use his guns in order to conserve ammo... he didn't think he could hit him in the cover of smoke anyhow. He probably didn't want to kill him either, by accident, because he gave us alcohol and cigars.

We didn't say anything to each other... Dudley and I just looked at each other and knew the fight was about to start. We could sense it. The smoke began to seep out of the ground and encircle us.

Corn sat back... Dudley and I knew it was up to us to go three rounds in the smoke with Golden Fox to impress him with our prowess and win his favor. The smoke had now encircled us completely...

Without warning...

"Eagle's Feather Kick! Falcon's Strike! Double Bear-Fist Hurricane! LIMIT BREAK! BERZERKER BARRAGE!!" Yelled Golden Fox as he attacked Dudley with a combination of attacks.

Dudley flew out of the smoke and back-first into a nearby tree! His ass was royally kicked!

"Whhhhaaaaaoooooooaaaaaaaw. OW!" screamed Dudley.

"Whoa," I said to myself.

"Oh shit! Smooth Dudz!? What in the hell?" exclaimed Corn.

I knew I was next and I knew I couldn't see Golden Fox. All my eyes could see was smoke and they began to be irritated but I kept my composure. I thought inwards into my own soul and into my own psyche... I thought about wrestling moves... and how Golden Fox could win at cards without even seeing what the numbers or suits were...

... a voice, inside of myself, whispered to me...

"Eagle's Feather Kick..." the voice said so I blocked low to parry his low attack.

"Falcon's Strike..." the voice then said to me almost as a whisper... I blocked my mid-range area to parry the punch.

"Double Bear-Fist Hurricane..." was next so I instinctively opened my hands like papers in order to catch both rock-like fists.

"Not bad... you managed to not get hit even once in the smoke..." said Golden Fox.

I was relieved until he yelled...

"LIMIT BREAK! BERZERKER BARRAGE!!" yelled Golden Fox!

I tried to parry the series of blows from his legs, feet, arms, and hands... but they were coming at all angles almost at the same time! High, mid-range, low!? What in the hell!?

"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! My ribs! Ouch! My face! Oh no!" I said.

"Damn! This man is kicking your ass! Oh shit," said Corn as he watched me get all beat up.

Just then the blows of his barrage ceased and the smoke dissipated.

"Son... you have impressed me. Not many men can parry my attacks in the tobacco. I shall help you defeat the Triangle... I will lend you my smoke and my strength," said Golden Fox with an air of confidence and trust in me.

Golden Fox joined the party!

To Be Continued....

"Next is the Garrison, my finest chums, the worst place in all of Lake Scumbag... a ghastly and ghoulish site of only trauma and ungodly horror..." said Dudley in a spooky voice.

"Damn, podnuh... oooof.... ouch," said Corn grabbing his abdomen tightly.

"Your spleen acting up?" I asked Corn.

"Yeah, man, it is..." Corn responded.

"The spleen is a strange organ, son, you need to quell pain in that organ with fine grounded herbal salacin found in the willow's branch," explained Golden Fox.

"Where can I find some of that stuff, man?" asked Corn.

"There's willows to the east... this way... I can smell them from here," said Golden Fox as he followed his nose to some willow trees.

Golden Fox found some willow leaves and grounded them up into an herbal tincture to treat Corn's spleen. He administered the concoction to the patient. Within minutes Corn started to feel better.

"Ohhhh.... I feel gooood. Damn, my abdomen feels much better. Thanks G," appreciatively said Corn.

"No problem," Golden Fox responded.

"Now, I bet, I can finally take a dump... I haven't taken one since I got to Lake Scumbag," informed Corn to us.

"Uhhh... you told me you've been here for two weeks already," I asked slightly puzzled.

"Yeh, man. My body's been acting so messed up for so long now... I gotta go try to take a giant dump in the woods, podnuh... now that my abdomen is clearing up thanks to them herbs," said Corn.

Corn went to take a dump, apparently for the first time in two weeks, which seemed exaggerated to me... like he was embellishing slightly on how long it had been since he had dumped... but who knows... maybe the tampered food and drinks he consumed really did mess him up that badly. Poor Corn.

He went by yonder deeper in the woods to take a large dump when suddenly he was ambushed by scumbags! Oh no! What luck!

"You're dead!" Yelled one of the scumbags waving a pike.

"Oh shit!" yelled Corn while he was taking a massive dump.

"I shall spring to thy assistance, Sir Cornelius!" exclaimed Dudley as he sprang into the wood!

Dudley parried the pikeman scumbag's attack before he could reach Corn. Dudley disarmed him with a leftward cross movement with his Beating Stick and promptly smashed the scumbags brains in!

"Damn! Thanks, smooth Dudz!" said Corn thankfully.

Four more scumbags approached Dudley from his flank!

"Come into the smoke with me, son... and listen to your mind's eye..." instructed Golden Fox.

As Golden Fox created a smoke screen with his cigar I entered the smoke with him. I knew there were four scumbags in the smoke with us... but I couldn't deduce where they were. Golden Fox began his attacks. He preformed two subsequent Double Bear-Fist Hurricanes which sent two scumbags flying, doing pirouettes throughout the air, into large rocks... instantly killing those scumbags.

There were two left in the smoke... I closed my eyes and focused my thoughts... I heard one running at me from my right flank! I grabbed his left arm towards me and implanted a light short-arm clothesline to his ugly face... dispatching him with the greatest of ease.

The other scumbag? I could feel him leaping towards me! I caught him by his neck...

"Wrestle Tech! Choke Slam!" I announced as I threw the man to the cold leaves-covered fall ground with a thud.

Five up n' Five down.
Without a smile nor a frown.
Welcome to Choke Slam Town!

Official Post-Battle Report
-----------------------------------

Scumbag Kill Count:

Cornelius: 7
Dudley: 5
Me: 3
Golden Fox: 2

Experience gained: 37 exp.

I gained a level! I am now level 4.
Golden Fox gained a level! He is now level 27.

I learned Wrestle Tech - Light Short-Arm Clothesline!

-----------------------------------

We continued up the trail and finally gained a vantage point high enough to see... The Garrison. It looked like a private military installation manned by elite scumbag mercenaries.

These ones had guns! Uh oh!

Well... at least they probably give more experience points... I thought.

To Be Continued...

We marched to the compound with determination...

"Alright, now that my spleen is back to normal... my brain is back too! Lemme call the shots today, podnuhs!" proudly exclaimed Corn with the eager will of a Hero.

"Understood, fine Corn," agreed Dudley.

"We'll hit the main entrance. Something tells me there's more guards outside than inside. G... give us a smoke screen to avoid detection. I'll approached as a diversion... you guys choose a flank and head for the two guards at the entrance... ignore everything and everyone to the sides... game faces... ON!" ordered Cornelius.

"Let's rock," said Golden Fox.

Golden Fox encased the compound in a cloud of smoke giving us the concealment necessary to approach the main entrance...

"CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! RINGIN' IN THE CHRISTMAS SEASON! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! JINGLE BELLS! JINGLE BELLS! BATMAN? THAT MAN... SMELLS!" diversioned Corn.

"Halloween just finished! You can't talk about Christmas yet, outsider! Open fire!" ordered the first guard as he aimed his assault rifle at us.

Dudley flanked him from the left with a quick-cross to the side of his face with his Beating Stick! Golden Fox flanked the other guard from the right with a Falcon's Strike! Both were dispatched with relative ease.

They laid on the ground with their guns on their chests. Corn inspected the guns they had.

"Sturmgewehr 44s? What in the hell? These be some damned ancient German-ass guns... what the shit is going on in here? I don't wanna wield these things... and the ammo isn't suitable for my guns. Damn... they got some ancient ass gats, podnuhs," said Corn.

"No time to waste, sons... let's advance," said Golden Fox.

"Sirs... please brace yourselves... the horrors of this compound are not for the faint of heart. It truly is a despicable den of sickness. A den of depravity... a cess pool of human degradation and filth," warned Dudley with tears streaming down his face.

As we entered we were overcome by the noise. Whipping sounds... the sounds of dentist drills... the sounds of chainsaws... and the sounds of not only pain but of suffering. Men, women, and moose tied to beds being mutilated and tortured. There were stations separated by screens with towels hanging off of them. We turned to look at the first station... a moose man was tied to a bed... screaming.

"Say please! Say thank you! This is CANADA! We are polite to our torturers!" screamed a scumbag as he tortured a moose man.

The moose man looked like a hairy man with hooves, a moose snout, and antlers. He was stricken with grief and pain but still managed to say please and thank you as he was savagely beaten.

"Argh! Please! Thank You! Please! Thank You! Please!" said the moose man as the scumbag tortured him.

We couldn't take it! Our hearts were filling with rage! We were at our limits! We unconcealed ourselves by declaring we had arrived!

"Torture time's over, SCUMBAGS!" yelled Corn.

"This rot must cease! You shall all perish in a wave of revenge! My Beating Stick shall render justice in the name of my sweet Lillington!" declared Dudley.

"Spirits... give me strength!" shouted Golden Fox.

"You sickos! You're finished! I hate you scumbags!" I said.

After we unconcealed ourselves... fifty scumbags assembled and attacked us! They shot at us with their sturmgewehrs but we slid behind a kicked-over metal filing cabinet and metal desks for safety! We were so angry at what we saw inside this horrific compound that we didn't even care that they were shooting at us! We threw the metal cabinet and desks at them! We sprang out of our cover... and went ballistic!

"Gun Techs! Rain of Bullets! Geomijul Death Strike! Pinpoint Trigger! LIMIT BREAK! DETROIT STRUGGLE!" yelled Corn as he careened through the air, spinning around with guns blazing! He looked like a tornado of bullets! All the while his heart representing the pain and the struggle of growing up in Detroit!

A dozen and a half bodies hit the floor!

"Eagle's Feather Kick! Falcon's Strike! Double Bear-Fist Hurricane! LIMIT BREAK! BERZERKER BARRAGE!!" yelled the mighty Golden Fox as another dozen men's bodies hit the floor.

Their guns and bullets clanked on the cold ground of the Garrison. The remaining scumbags stared in awe of our untold-of and unforeseen might!

Dudley leapt towards the shocked fray and joined the melee!

"Left Cross! Right Cross! Skull Smash! LIMIT BREAK! For Mine Dearest... For Lillington!" painfully stated Dudley as he soared through the air uncontrollably like a human drill! Spinning his Beating Stick the whole while! Sending scumbags flying across the compound left and right! Another fifteen scumbags perished.

It was my turn! For once in my life I knew what I must do. There were only five of them left. Their guns had hit the floor as they stood in terror of us. I knew I must unleash my own fury on these unforgivable torturous scumbags! I ran towards them like a freight train of human justice.

It was my story to write!

"Wrestle Techs! Light Short-Arm Clothesline! Choke Slam!" I declared as I dispatched of two scumbags.

It was time to make my own history... it was time to create my own finishing attack... I put one of the scumbags on my shoulders and wrapped my arm around his head... I leapt up... for my newest attack... one I had never seen before... one I created with the power of my own thoughts...

"LIMIT BREAK! Final Wrestle Tech! DEATH BUSTER!!!" I proclaimed as I dropped to the ground with the man's neck locked in my arms. Whence I hit the floor... the tense muscles in the man's neck were torn to shreds and the shock-wave from us hitting the ground sent the remaining two scumbags flying off into the walls to meet their respective makers.

Dudley ran to the Royal Locking System and switched all the locks to off! The tortured masses ran for the exit in large numbers!

"We're free!" yelled the tortured masses.

We saved them... I looked at Dudley knowing his heart must have felt a little lighter.

"It's over. The compound is... finally... shut down. I... I... have been neglecting to name my Beating Stick for so long. I didn't give it a name at mine graduation ceremony nor a name after. I was waiting for this moment to dub mine Beating Stick with its official name..." sadly said Dudley.

We all knew what he was going to say.

"I dub thee, Beating Stick, to be named after my fallen beloved. I dub thee... Lillington," said Dudley with much honor as he held the Beating Stick, now referred to as Lillington, unto the sky...

Clap. Clap. Clap.

A slow clap could be heard from the distance. Then the sound of boots hitting the floor... big boots. Official sounding boots.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

"Well done. Well done... I commend you," said a stern but calm voice.

It must be the boss of this compound. The man they called the Commandant.

"Careful sons... the spirits don't like what they feel... this man is not human... this man is older than he seems. The spirits tell me... this thing... is almost... two hundred years old," Golden Fox said.

A two hundred year old man... but he looked like he was no more than fifty. How strange...

To Be Continued...


"Impressive. Quite impressive," said the evil man.

"Spirits! Oh spirits! Speak! I sense evil! They sense evil! Nothing more than evil! This man worships Satan!" said Golden Fox.

"Satan? Oh don't be foolish... no one believes in those fairy tales. I sold my soul to someone a long time ago. Someone back in 1940..." said the Commandant.

Hmmm... 1940... I thought. I was starting to get the picture, now. He was some sort of ancient war criminal from centuries-past. His uniform wasn't what I was expecting though. It was just a plain grey uniform, very drab, almost jarringly dull... but... like Golden Fox... I could sense the evil radiating off of this man like some sort of repulsion... or... deathly fear.

"Looks like you found my play ground," said the Commandant.

"Playground!? This compound is an abomination! Taste the revenge of my sweet Lillington's fury!" yelled Dudley with the passion of one thousand heroes.

"Not so fast, my friend... Now! Oxeo! Mal-Sunder! Attack!" said the Commandant as two Moose Men charged from the darkness behind him.

They were giants, they stood at... at least... seven feet tall. They had yellow eyes like snakes. They had teeth, full of cavities, like sturdy iron rods that jettisoned from their mouths. They were truly abominations... they were horrible chimeras.

"RRRRAAAAAAAAAARGH! BLAAAAAAARGH!" yelled the Moose Men.

"No! Those uniforms! No!" said Dudley.

The Moose Men had torn, ripped, many-sizes-too-small Official Fully-Queen-Entrusted Regal Canadian Horse Police uniforms on. They were men, before, they were moosed-men... I presume.

"No! McDougalson! MacSteinbergson! NO!" Screamed Dudley in agony as he saw their name tags. They must've been colleagues of his.

"They no longer have these stupid Canadian names. They are now Oxeo and Mal-Sunder. Projects MG-42 and MG-51... Moosemaglobins 42 and 51!" explained the Commandant.

Dudley lost all of his morale to fight... at the worst possible time... for Oxeo kicked him with a hoove-thrusted power kick right in the chest. Dudley flew through the air and landed in a pile of medical supplies of dubious nature... objects used in unnecessary surgeries and blood soaked cloths.

"Son! Come into my smoke! Let's attack them while they cannot see!" instructed Golden Fox.

We smoked them up with his fine cigar smoke and went a few rounds of fisticuffs with the Moose Men... but to no avail. There was no clear winner... they were able to fight us in the smoke.

"It must be their noses, G. Those moose humans have super-human smell that's probably ten to twenty times better than a human's sense of smell," explained Corn.

"You should shoot them, Corn," I suggested.

"Podnuh... these 'aint men no more. These are giant mammal-ass men. I'd need a .30-.30 rifle to take down game this big," explained Corn while shaking his head.

The Moose Men were looking at us, readying their counter-attack. We needed to do something.

"I have an idea. I can use one of my oldest and trusted Gun Techs... Central Park Point Blank... however... I would need to be up-close n' personal with these moosebags before I can properly dome them," explained Corn.

"I'll hook one up in a full nelson... while Golden Fox smoke-fights the other one," I volunteered.

We agreed this was the best course of action.

I grappled with the Moose Man, the one I believe was named Oxeo (previously McDougalson) and flipped up his arm bar into a full nelson hold. I was behind him, subduing him, with my powerful strength.

"Now Corn!" I proclaimed to him.

"On it, podnuh," coolly said Corn as he approached the Moose Man with murderous intent. He put the pistol in his left hand right up against the Moose Man's left temple.

"Looks like I got this pistol grip pump on my lap at all times! Moosebag! Gun Tech! Central Park Point Blank!" announced Corn.

BANG! All this moose man saw was a blink... and then... black. He was put out of his abominable misery.

The other Moose Man, Mal-Sunder (previously MacSteinbergson) grew enraged with fury! He disengaged from the smoke fight with Golden Fox and attacked Corn with a buck-hooved lariat. Corn was unprepared for close-ranged fighting being a long-range attacker.

Just then Dudley re-joined the fray! He re-entered the thrilling melee!

"You are NO LONGER MacSteinbergson! You are no longer my Horse Police colleague! You are a monster! I must put you out of your misery!" claimeth sir Dudley.

Dudley hooked him up in a baton nelson with his Lillington. Corn knew what to do.

"Pistol. Grip. PUMP. Gun Tech! Central Park Point Blank!" said Corn in the coolest way you can when you blow a moose man's brains loose.

The second Moose Man was taken care of. I looked at Dudley, he was sad, but we had no time to be sad right now... for... the Commandant was starting to glow in purple and black light. Something evil was definitely afoot!

"Mrs. Scumbag's devil energy lets me keep my youthful appearance... but I simply cannot fight in this form," said the eerily glowing Commandant.

His uniform started changing color. It went from grey to black as red armbands started forming on his arms. His skin turned pale white... and his eyes... turned red.

"This. This is my... final form," said the evil Commandant.

"Oh noooo... podnuhs. I'm out of ammo! I...I..." nervously said Corn as he went to reload but found, to his great dismay, his bullet pouch was empty.

"It's okay, guys, this fight is mine," I proudly said.

"Are you sure, son?" asked Golden Fox.

"Yes, Golden Fox, this one's mine... because..." I started.

"Because...?" asked Golden Fox.

"...because I hate... Nazis!" I said.

They all thought that sounded cool and so did I... but I had no time to bathe in the cool words that I thus spoke for the Commandant lurched at me like a monster. I parried and fended off his blows. We grappled briefly but I out-powered him. He was definitely old... I could feel that he used to be very strong but now at almost 200 years old... this ancient war criminal... couldn't defeat me... and I knew it. I felt good and strong... I looked up... and heard the spirits... the same spirits that talk to me when I'm inside of Golden Fox's smoke... they told me to destroy this man. He deserved to die. I knew it too.

I threw the aging war criminal to the ground... he landed stomach first and lay there... with his face to the floor. I looked up to the sky as I approached him from behind... I hit my chest with both hands... then raised my hands to the air... to let the spirits give my hands the energy I needed...

"This is for all the people you made suffer! For the MILLIONS! Yeah! Camel Clutch!" I proclaimed as I sat on his back and started to stretch his ugly head back with both my powerful hands!

"YEAH!" yelled Corn while jumping in the air.

"Well played, fine fellow!" said Dudley as I broke the Commandant's neck.

"That's the way, son," said Golden Fox as I kept the hold on despite the Commandant already being deceased in my hands.

I kept pulling his neck... until I tore his entire spinal cord... and removed his head from his body. I threw the head into a garbage can... Corn went over, poured lighter fluid in the garbage can, and threw a match into it... lighting his head on fire.

Victory!


Official Post-Battle Report
-----------------------------------

Scumbag Kill Count:

Cornelius: 27
Dudley: 21
Golden Fox: 15
Me: 9


Experience gained: 579 exp.

Cornelius gained a level! He is now level 12.
Dudley gained a level! He is now level 10.
I gained a level! I am now level 9.
Golden Fox gained a level! He is now level 28.

-----------------------------------


Meanwhile at Mount Scumbag in the Scumlair....

The rodent-like man, Precious O'Scumbag had scurried into the lair, to report information. Mrs. Scumbag was devastated to hear that the Commandant was dead and that their torture facility was finished.

"Hon.....hon-hon. HON!" said Crackhead de la Cracksmoke.

"See mother! I told you! I told you! Hee hee hee!" said the weasel-faced Precious.

"....." said Mrs. Scumbag.

"Lemme go! Lemme kill them! Please! Pretty please!? With a cherry on top! Tee hee," asked Precious.

A single tear dripped from Mrs. Scumbag's left eye... it smelled like bacon grease.

"He was my... favorite war criminal," sadly said Mrs. Scumbag.

"I shall go, next. They are no longer on Golden Fox's land... I will fight Golden Fox and kill him with my own hands like I should have done long ago. Hon, hon, hon, hoooon," said Crackhead de la Cracksmoke as he took a long draw on his crack pipe.


To Be Continued...



We continued through the compound. It was silent now that all the torturees had fleed and the torturers were dealt with accordingly. We happened upon a small supply room... and upon a cache of supplies.

We opened it! (sound effect if clicked).

We searched the booty!

"Hm... it's all junk," I said.

"Wait... remember the intel files? We need flashbang grendades and some caltrops, I think," remembered Corn.

"What are caltrops, exactly?" I asked not knowing what that word meant.

"Methinks they are most commonly used to cause flat tires..." said Dudley.

"Or to make barefoot people step on them and hurt their feet," said Corn.

"I don't know... it's just MRE rations and some ammo... I see in here," I told them.

"You see any .38s podnuh?" asked Corn.

"Yeah...here... there's a box of .38 rounds... about 100 bullets in here, I'd say," I responded as I handed him the box of ammunition.

"Reloaded and ready," Corn said as he reloaded his revolvers.

"Oh wait... check these out!" I said holding up a case of flashbang grenades.

It was a case of six M84 flashbang grenades. The back of the box said that they create a wave of blinding light and a sound so deafening that even swarms and swarms of drunken European football hooligans lie incapacitated in their wake.

"Out of sight!" exclaimed Corn.

"Here we go, guys, I think these are caltrops..." I said looking at the back of another box I found.

"They look sorta like ninja stars, or some shit," said Corn.

"No... they are more robust! They are much more robust!" corrected Dudley.

I pocketed the flashbang grenades (x6) and the caltrops (x12) from the supply cache chest.

"Sons... we must move faster... no time to dilly nor dally any longer... I smell something outside..." explained Golden Fox concernedly.

"Is everything okay, G?" asked Corn of Golden Fox.

"No, it's not. The man who we will fight... the man clouded in the dirty smoke... he used to be my friend," said Golden Fox sadly.

"That crackhead?" I asked.

"That's not his real name... his name isn't Crackhead de la Cracksmoke. Sit sons... I will tell you a story..." said Golden Fox as we sat on some crates in the supply room and opened our ears.

"It was almost ten years ago..." began Golden Fox.

He began his story...

"Yes it was about ten years ago... I was a much happier man back then... and had eyes in my skull. Eyes which could see. Eyes that could read. Eyes that could perceive the beauty of nature around my land.

I knew a lumber jack, his name was Germain de la Ste. Germaine. He would deliver cords of firewood to my cabin and we became friends. He would sit and play cards, drink bourbon, and smoke fine cigars with me after he'd finish unloading my firewood.

We become fast, close, personal, and inseparable friends.

Until one day when a fat lady from Ontario came and bought land close to mine. She had the scent of a swine and made me feel deep unease... she was very ugly too.

My friend would deliver firewood to her land as well... and I started to notice things. Within weeks he was getting skinnier and his face started to look like a skeleton's face...

One night after he delivered two cords of firewood to my cabin before the rain turned to snow... he played cards with me after and told me about the woman. She was very rich and had given him one hundred times pay for the amount he requested for the firewood. She also gave him a funny cigar...

...he offered me the funny cigar... but my mind raced back to things I had seen on the white man's Television... I remembered a man in a grey suit and red bow tie imploring me never to try this horrible stuff... for it wasn't only wrong... but it could be DEAD WRONG," told Golden Fox.

"Oh... the one with Pee..." I started before the others got angry with me.

"Stop interrupting, FOOL," said Corn.

"Sorry," I apologized.

"I think so... yeah. The guy who lived in the whacky-whacky house on the Television. He told me never to try that junk... so I didn't.

After that I stopped seeing Germain de la Ste. Germaine that much... except when he would come to ask me for money or to try and steal stuff from my cabin. He was slowly becoming a huge scumbag thanks to that swine woman's influence on him.

One day, when the snow turned back to the rain... she came and threatened me for my land... but I refused. She was a terrible human being. She told me she'd murder my sons... but I didn't have any. I lived alone. She wasn't getting her way and was getting very cranky... she sent scumbags to try and burn my cabin down but I fought them off with my strength, resilience, and power.

I thought it was over... but...

One day Germain came to my cabin in good faith, or so I thought, at the time. He told me wanted to play cards like old times... but... when I opened the door he slashed at me with his steely french sabres!

We fought many rounds together but with no clear victor... so we declared it a draw and moved on... or so it seemed...

One night while I was setting traps... a cloud of filthy crack smoke enveloped me... I couldn't breathe nor move. Germain slashed at my face and cut my eyes out! As I lay bleeding and nursing my skull holes which were pouring blood...he gave me this warning... 'stay out of mother's affairs or I will remove your heart next time... Gold,' he warned me.

After that... I lived alone... as a blind man... honing my other senses through focused training... until one day... I can get my revenge..." told Golden Fox.

"Damn, G... that's unforgivable to the extreme!" angrily proclaimed Corn.

"...." I said shaking my head.

"Mrs. Scumbag... everything started turning to rot when she moved here. She is evil incarnate. She is a festering cancer that must be removed from the body of our nation!" proclaimed Dudley.

"She ruined my friend's life... and now I must fight him... alone," said Golden Fox.

To Be Continued...


Meanwhile in the Scumlair inside of Mount Scumbag...

Mrs. Scumbag was in her private boudoir chambers deep in the chasm of her private mountainside lair. She was laying in a tub of lard and of thick pig's blood... soaking. She was reading her favorite magazine, Diarrhea Digest, while smoking grade-A Canadian crack rocks from her lavish ornamental crack pipe.

"They sell diarrhea in bags now? That's better than cartons... I should order some bags next time," said Mrs. Scumbag.

Crackhead de la Cracksmoke, was in an adjacent room sharpening his prized french sabres... preparing for battle. He was uneasy... but he knew he had to kill Golden Fox today. It was time... he put it off for too long. He was his friend but the money and the crack that Mrs. Scumbag gave him was more important than friendship to this man who's heart and mind had been corrupted by greed and by crack.

"Hon hon. Hoooooon," he longfully laughed as he sharpened his blades. He was prepared... he tied his laces tight, straightened his coat frock, and set out for his final confrontation with Golden Fox.

Meanwhile...

We exited the compound and were back in the beauty of nature, walking on a beautiful fall trail, to our final destination.

"Do not interfere..." instructed Golden Fox.

"That guy cut your eyes out! That's not a thang of a forgivable nature, G! If he has you on the ropes... we're stepping in!" protested Corn.

I was with Corn... if things went south... I'd jump in two... and I'm sure Dudley three.

Just then! A cloud of awful smelling smoke surrounded us! Oh no!

"Gold. Goooooldennn. Foooooooooox, hon-hoooon," said the Crackhead in the crack smoke.

The malfeasance of the situation started to seep into our chests and we began to be dirt scared!

"Germain! Germain! You! You used to be COOL, son! Now you're just a lackey for that big fat scumbag lady! I can't forgive you! I can't forgive you as you let her turn the people of this land into chimeras and monsters! Half-men, half-moose men! It's a tragedy! Failed experiments roaming the land wailing into the night like wraiths!" shouted Golden Fox into the smoke as he lit his cigar to create a counter-smoke.

"Hon hon hon hon... HON!" confidently laughed the Crackhead in defiance.

"...and the dogs! When you guys tried to make those damned reindeer dogs or tanukis or whatever the hell it was! You tried to give dogs reindeer antlers to sell as Christmas pets!" began Golden Fox.

"Ahhh, yes... the Santa Dogs! Another failed experiment of hers! Hon HON!" laughed the Crackhead.

"Santa Dogs!? You could have just taped fake antlers to a dog to make him look silly for the Christmas season! You didn't need to try to splice reindeermaglobins with dogmaglobins! It's a travesty! It's nothing but a travesty!" shouted Golden Fox.

"It's not forgivable! It is one hundred percent unforgivable!" cried Corn.

"En garde!" exclaimed the Crackhead as he made an attack, we could not see, inside of his smoke cloud.

"Hiya!" shouted Golden Fox as he guarded.

They fought many rounds in the smoke... but I could tell from Golden Fox's cries that he has getting his hands all slashed and cut. Ouch, poor guy. He can't fight hand-to-hand against sabres.

Damn... this isn't good, I thought... it's like rock-paper-scissors. His hands are like papers compared to that crackhead's steely french blades. He needed a rock to beat scissors... or something else... something better to beat scissors. I know!

"Flashbang! GRENADE!" I yelled as I pulled the pin of one of the M84s and threw it into the dirty smoke cloud!

BANG! WOAH!

"AAAAAAAH!" yelled Corn.

"Mineth eyes! Mineth ears!" exclaimed Dudley.

It was much louder and much brighter than I would have ever imagined...

"HON!? HON HON!" shouted Crackhead de la Cracksmoke as his smoke cloud dissipated. He held his eyes with both hands... dropping his sabres.

"Son... I know I told you not to interfere... but thanks... I would have died soon, I think," said Golden Fox.

Golden Fox, having no eyes, was only deafened by the sound unlike the rest of us. I couldn't even move nor could I speak. My ears were ringing and my eyes were blinded by the light, revved up like a deuce... like another runner in the night. I felt like I was staring into a luxury vehicle's high beams!

Golden Fox could see with his own thoughts, guided by the spirits, he kicked his opponent's sabres into a ditch and subdued him with one single Falcon's Strike to his chest.

"Hooooooooooooooon," whimpered Crackhead de la Cracksmoke.

"It's over... admit it. I have more strength and more power than you... Germain," said Golden Fox.

"....I admit defeat. I should never have trusted that horrible woman. She blinded me with lucre and drug," sadly said the defeated drug addict.

"Let me kill the guy, man! He'll make problems for us later, G!" suggested Corn.

"No... let him go. He's just a stupid person... a stupid idiot. He gave his life away just because some rich lady paid him a lot of money for firewood... he's very dumb," plainly said Golden Fox.

"He's right, you know. I will only end up stabbing you in the back again if you let me go," said Crackhead de la Cracksmoke.

"I don't think so... and if you do stab me in the back again... I will disarm you of your steely knives once more... or as many times as it takes... my friend," said Golden Fox with a tear in his eye hole.

".....hon. Hon........hon," sadly sobbed the crackhead.

The villain turned around and walked off... defeated. I didn't know what to think. Part of me knew Corn was right and that this scumbag would be back to try and slash n' stab us later on in our journey... but seeing him cry as he sauntered off made me pity the fool.

"I have pity for this fool... I think Golden Fox is right, Corn. Let's let him go," I stated that I agreed with Golden Fox.

"...." said Corn shaking his head in disagreement.

"Lo! There is simply not the necessary time to waste thoughts on that slimy drug addict! Moose men approach at three o'clock! To our respective peripheral rights!" warned Dudley as three giant moose men approached us.

"Smooth Dudz! Let's show 'em the combination strike we were cooking up! It's time!" said Corn.

Corn jumped horizontally into the air! Dudley wound-up Lillington and swung! He hit the soles of Corn's feet! Corn was propelled by the mighty swing of the club straight towards a moose man! As soon as his revolver was close enough to the moose man's skull he pulled the trigger! POW! One down n' two to go!

"Our turn, son! Let me call this one," said Golden Fox.

"Okay!" I said.

"You go low... I'll go high!" Golden Fox instructed me.

I went low with a leg lariat to the moose man's legs, forcing it to drop it's high-guard, while Golden Fox went high with an attack! All the while Dudley was climbing up a tree.

"Aerial Eagle's Feather Kick!" announced Golden Fox as he did a cool jump-kick to the second moose man's head... killing him.

Dudley, was now high up in a tree, standing on a branch. He leapt down! He smashed the last moose man's brain with his trusted Lillington! The moose man's brains were dashed!

Victory!

Official Post-Battle Report
-----------------------------------

Scumbag Kill Count:

Cornelius: 28
Dudley: 22
Golden Fox: 16
Me: 9


Experience gained: 125 exp.

Dudley gained a level! He is now level 11!
I gained a level! I am now level 10!

Corn and Dudley learned - Combination Attack - Mighty Propelled Point Blank!

-----------------------------------


We checked their remains for supplies but they had nothing of value. We continued walking, together, confident like heroes to our final mark on our map...

...Mount Scumbag.

To Be Continued...

We started to walk towards the final lair... I looked at the three faces carved into the mountain once more. At a closer range they looked even uglier. They had horrible teeth, horrible eyes, horrible noses... and awful hair. Who would be proud of looking like this? They were outright monsters these visages. These carvings... looked terrible.

I started to think back to Mrs. Scumbag's intel report. She couldn't have really sold her blood to Satan could she have? I mean how do you even meet Satan in Canada? Why would he want to come here? Maybe it's something dumber like she sold her soul to Canadian Satan... who's just like some guy who rents canoes to people or some lame-ass thing like that. She got like a free canoe rental in exchange for her blood and her soul.

That's it. She probably has no extra-ordinary powers or anything of the like. She, probably, is just really ugly and drinks blood... and lard. It says not to approach her at any costs though... that's strange. I mean, how dangerous can some ugly fat lady really be?

Anyways, aaahhhhwwww, it's fall. What a nice path. The sights and sounds as we travelled were quite nice. The fall colors were in full view and the small forest animals were making fun little chirping noises in the woods.

Meanwhile in his disease-ridden badger's nest sat a deranged pest. Human vermin itself...

"Hee hee hee... I'm gonna bite them! I'm gonna give them my horrible Canadian rabies! Hee hee!" squealed the rat-faced fink known as Precious O'Scumbag as it foamed from its infected-wth-rabies mouth.

The small-framed mammal man leapt out of his rodent den and started galloping like a rat-horse towards us... it looked like a rabid animal!

I heard it moving... I knew it was him again... that ugly short little weirdo thing from before. He looked like a buck-toothed squirrel with bloodshot eyes and weird gangly little hands. He was gross. This thing grossed me out.

"On guard, sons, I smell a scumbag," said Golden Fox.

I took out the caltrops but Corn stopped me...

"No, don't give away our plan. It's our ace-in-the-hole, podnuh. We gotta hide those thangs... like a trap," Corn said.

I had an idea...

"Golden Fox... let's go into the smoke... all of us... and then set a perimeter of caltrops around us. That little squealy rat-boy won't be able to see them and hopefully he'll step on them and hurt his pigeon-like feet," I suggested.

"Good plan, good plan..." agreed Golden Fox.

We surrounded ourselves in smoke, thanks to Golden Fox's fine cigars, and then I set a circular perimeter of caltrops around us with an extra radius of caltrops down the middle of the circumference of the circle of caltrops.

"Don't step on these guys," I warned.

We sat in the smoke, very quietly, surrounded by caltrops... waiting for the scumbag rat fink to step on them. We waited and waited and waited... but no sound of it came. We were getting bored.

"Hmmmm..." said Corn impatiently.

Just then! What in the world!? I heard digging... in the smoke. It sounded like dirt getting tossed around. I heard squealing too. How?

"Friends! It has pierced the sanctity of the earth with its rat-talons! It's digging a web of holes underneath our boots!" exclaimed Dudley.

Golden Fox stopped smoking his cigar and let the smoke cloud dissipate. We noticed six holes inside of our circle that weren't there before.

"He's a damn rascal! I hate this rascal!" angrily stated Cornelius.

It was now quiet... too quiet. What was this little weasel man up to? I had another idea.

"Dudley," I began.

"Sir Dudley. What is thy matter kind sir? " responded Dudley.

"Yeah, sir Dudley... you ever play whack-a-mole?" I asked him.

"Yes, once sir, at the county fair. I won a set of novelty tea cups for my dearly departed Lillington..." he recalled fondly yet forlornly.

"Okay... well... think of these six holes like whack-a-mole. If that rabid stinker jumps out of one... smack it over his ugly head and bust him up. Do it for Lillington, okay..." I explained.

"Oh... I shall!" proclaimed sir Dudley Bozo of the Official Fully-Queen-Entrusted Regal Canadian Horse Police.

I hoped Dudley could time it right and hit the rat-fink on the noggin' with his rod before it could bite us and render us infected with its foamy diseased mouth. I'm sure he could, I mean, he said he graduated beating-in heads with clubs from the Royally Whatevered Horse Roaming Whatever-thing Patrol school... or whatever.

"Breathe, son, visualize the scumbag jumping out of one of the holes... let your mind itself do the whacking, son..." suggested Golden Fox.

We all breathed... especially Dudley... who looked like he was really zoned-in and very relaxed yet ready to whack.

"DIE! Squirrel Bite!" announced the rat-fink scumbag Precious as he leapt out of the second hole.

"AH! Get him Lillington!" exclaimed Dudley as he swung downward.

"GEEEYA!" said Precious shocked as he stopped the biting-motion of his attack and scurried back into the earth.

"Oh no! I missed. He doth possess too much agility this urchin!" angrily said Dudley.

Before we had time to assess the situation it jumped out of the fifth hole and lunged at us.

"MOLE SCRATCH! WEIRDO PUNCH!" he announced moves as he missed us and landed into hole number three.

It kept jumping in and out of the holes, announcing his lame-ass rodent moves, but it was just fighting blind... hoping we were standing above or around the holes as he shot out of them.

"Dudley! Dudley! Calm your mind... listen to nature itself. Listen to the trees... talk to them. Listen to the sky... talk to it. Listen to the birds... hear them sing. Listen to it all... the leaves, the soil... the earth itself," mentioned Golden Fox.

Dudley closed his eyes and listened to everything... and nothing... at the same time.

"My beloved..." said a voice only Dudley could hear in his mind.

"Lillington? My sweet? Where art thou?" asked the puzzled and forlorned Dudley.

"I am here... with you. I am now one with the spirits. I am now one with nature... hole... three. It is coming out of hole number... three... my love," gently said the voice to Dudley.

"Thank you... my sweet dear Lillington. I shall love you always... I shall love you forever," said Dudley to his mind.

"...and I...you," said Lillington.

Dudley raised his Beating Stick, which he named after his fallen beloved, Lillington, to the air... and SMAAAASHED* it back down on hole number three...

Well, what can I say? Whether it's all around that danged mulberry bush or some olden times cobbler's bench... or in this case... a series of holes dug inside a perimeter of caltrops... it's always the same ending to this song, gang... you know how it goes...

All around a caltrop-laden perimeter
Some heroes are chased by a scumbag
It jumps out and tries to murder us
But...

...POP GOES THE SCUMBAG!

Dudley smashed its brain open like its skull was nothing but a peanut. It lay there dead as a door knob... dead as can be...

Victory!

Official Post-Battle Report
-----------------------------------

Scumbag Kill Count:

Cornelius: 28
Dudley: 23
Golden Fox: 16
Me: 9


Experience gained: 667 exp.

Corn gained a level! He is now level 13!
Dudley gained a level! He is now level 13!
I gained a level! I am now level 12!
Golden Fox gained a level! He is now level 29!

-----------------------------------

"Good one! Dudz! You popped that weasel!" congratulated Corn of Dudley.

"Well, I do say, I... I did what sir Golden Fox suggested and... and..." began Dudley as he began to sob.

"The spirits are all around us... and... more importantly... inside...of us," sagely said Golden Fox.

"Two down...one to go," I said, sort of sadly, that our Journey together was nearing a close.

"I can almost taste the new truck that I'm gonna steal from that lair! I'm gonna drive outta here like a crazy man! It's gonna look like a NASCAR PILEUP when I'm done smashing outta this hell hole!" smilingly said Corn.


*(Note: The four "A" in SMAAAASH is the correct amount... it is the Earthboundian way to spell this term.)


To Be Continued...


We stopped to set up camp to get a good night's rest before we stormed the evil lair.

That night, the moon was full... we sat around the campfire and talked... for what could be the last time.

"This country... it surely doth has changeth..." worriedly stated Dudley.

"Hmmm... it's like that all over, podnuh... it 'aint just here, man. Back home, in Detroit, thangs just 'aint been like they used to be. Ever since the automotive industry has been shipped over-seas... it's like ancient ruins of what we once were..." said Corn also worried for the future.

"Canada... what hath happened to thee?" began Dudley.

I shook my head too... I remember as a kid... I used to think differently about this place. It really has changed a lot over the decades.

"Tell me more about Canada..." asked Corn.

"Well, fine sir... centuries ago in the 1600s... it was called Rupert's Land and was owned by a man named Rupert. Prince Rupert of the Rhineland... an English-German fellow who purchased this land. Some time later a powerful beaver-trapping company, The Hudson's Bay Company, saved up enough money to buy this land from Rupert's estate... and they did just that. The beaver-pelt industry was the next ruler of Canada. They made fine tricorne beaver-skin hats and sold them to rich men in Europe..." explained Dudley.

Canada's origin story is a bit... what's a polite way to put this... not very interesting is the right way, I guess. I think Canadians like to think they live in this big important country and being reminded of their history isn't always fun for them. Our official government was comprised of beaver-trapping fur-traders for quite a while. Dudley continued...

"Then in 1869 men in lower-Canada saved up 1.5 million dollars and purchased Rupert's Land from the Hudson's Bay fur trading company! That was the day we became a Nation! A glorious nation! It was a glorious day on earth that day, t'was! Then one hundred years later in 1965... we got our flag! A flag so beautiful it took one hundred years to design! The splendid maple leaf..." Dudley explained with tears in his eyes.

We got our flag only in the sixties? Really? The nineteen sixties!? A big red maple leaf? Foliage as a symbol? We wave a banner as a nation that has foliage on it? It's funny to stop and think about it sometimes.

Golden Fox was cooking some food in the fire pit... a stew of some sort and bannock bread.

"Sons... come eat," said Golden Fox.

The stew he made was pretty good... it was a hearty base with big cubes of meat, potatoes, carrots, wild onions, and spices. The bread was good... it absorbed the liquid of the stew well. It was a very hearty meal.

"I've been eating nothing but rice for two weeks now... it's good to get some potatoes for a change," said Corn as he ate.

"This stew is exquisite, chums!" heartily said Dudley.

"Sons... that woman... she's not human. I've been in her presence and she is evil incarnate. She has the pig demon Voodoo-Juju and she has it bad," explained Golden Fox.

"Pig demon... voodoojoojoo?" I asked.

"The spirits... are nature, son. Trees, birds, creatures of the forest. You... you have the spirits. Corn has them. Dudley has them. We all have them. We have the protection of nature. Some people? They fear it. Some people? They don't even come near it. It's very powerful... yet... when used for nefariousness and evil... it can do great harm. Some animals go astray and are not allowed in the spirit world for their souls are corrupted by hatred. They consume human flesh and live forever as monsters. That woman..." told Golden Fox as the campfire cackled.

"Damn," said Corn.

"That woman is... a pig monster?" I asked.

"Yes, she is. I sense the spirit animal of corruption that has possessed her. Her soul must have been weak due to her past crimes and the hatred of her actions. A pig demon spirit must have taken residence inside of her... now... she is nothing more than a pig demon. She consumes human flesh and thinks of nothing more than murder, arson, and harming the public..." said Golden Fox.

"That's... the worst. We must stop this soulless monster from polluting our great nation further! We must do it for Prince Rupert of the Rhine, the Hudson's Bay Company, and most importantly... for our flag!" implored Dudley.

Spiritual pig-related demonic powers? What have I gotten myself into? What can she do... I wondered. I think I'll get some sleep so I'm ready for the big day tomorrow.

"Good night, guys," I said as I put my head on a stone and went to sleep under the star-lit sky.

The moon was full. It made me think of werewolves... but in this case a woman was cursed by a pig not by a wolf. We're going to be fighting a werepig. Wow. A werepig.

To Be Continued...


Meanwhile in her boudoir of human filth...

"Noooooooooooooo! My precious scumbag! Precious! They killed him! They killed him!" the disgusting pig lady shouted as word got back to her fat face that the rodent man was dead and in the earth.

She got out of her blood and lard tub, grabbed a towel, and summoned her satanic energy! She chanted hymns of pure evil... her face changed... it became even more pig like... she grew two horns on her fat head... and grew hooves!

She exited her boudoir and started ascending her mountain. She floated on evil energy to the very apex of her hideous mountain lair. It was a sight to behold... for now on the summit of Mount Scumbag hovered a pig woman, floating, and enveloped with ancient glowing purple energy.

"War criminals of the past! Give me strength!" said the pig monster, Mrs. Scumbag, as she gathered-in more evil energy from past rulers and war criminals.

Tentacles started shooting out of the mountainside! Mutant pig demons started being born out of pig eggs scattered across the mountain! An army of scumbags started manning the ramparts! Moose men of varying degrees of malformaties and abnormalities took their positions behind the mountain's many parapets! Chimeras, mutant failed experiments of a hideous nature, started worshipping the pig demon... giving it even more diabolical strength!

She began transforming into a bigger, more disgusting, and even fatter pig lady!

"Behold! My final form!" proclaimed the pig monster atop her mountain of human filth.

We approached the mountain. Myself, Cornelius from Detroit, Dudley the Horse Policeman, and Golden Fox the sagely hermit...

We could not even believe our eyes. It was nothing but a horror! A horror! A horror was what it was! It was a... Tower Boss. At the base of the mountain were fifty lesser pig-demons with pitchforks and staves. At the mid-level of the mountain stood, phalanxed, thirty moose men. At the penultimate level were twenty mutant failed-experiments of a ghastly nature, standing readied with spears and pikes...

...and floating high above the mountain, with one pig-wing flapping in the breeze, glowing with evil pig-satan energy... was the pig monster herself... in her final form... the One-Winged Pig Demon... chanting evil death chants!

We looked at each other... in shock.

"You ever hear that expression... when pig's fly?" I asked them.

"Yeh... you ever hear that expression... it 'aint even over 'til the fat lady sings?" replied Corn.

"Yes... indeedidly. Indeed did... lee," agreed Dudley.

"Looks to me, sons, that not only are the pigs flyin' but the fat lady is definitely singing' too!" proclaimed Golden Fox as he slowly lit a fine cigar.

"Let's finish this," I said heroically.

"It's time to get my truck back, podnuhs," said Corn with the will of a champion.

"We shall be victorious... right Lillington?" said Dudley as he looked at his Beating Stick.

"Let's ROCK!" instructed Golden Fox as he started running pell-mell into combat!

It was on... like Saigon up in here! We all ran to the foot of the mountain where no less than fifty lesser pig-demons awaited us. They were small-fries to say the least but fighting them was annoying because they made weird noises when we killed them. Horrible squealing noises that I hated to hear.

Corn shot them, Dudley beat them, I suplexed them, and Golden Fox used his powerful karate on them. We made short work of the first wave of monsters. We still had most if not all of our stamina left. We were mowing monsters down like bowling pins! It was wicked! We were a well-oiled fighting machine! It was a sight to behold.

The jabroni pigs were no match for our teamwork and powerful attacks... we continued up the mountain to the next plateau of bad-guys. Next was thirty moose men... bigger and badder than we'd fought yet... but our resolve was too strong. Well-placed single techniques and some efficient two-man combination attacks made short work of the battalion. They scattered at a disorganized rate down the hill! We high fived like ten times!

We were losing strength after so many rounds of fighting but we managed to summon up the will to keep doing it! We fought and fought and fought until our fingers bled and our knees buckled! We were almost at the top of the mountain... we were almost there!

Chimeras attacked us! We held our formation! There were more moose-men monsters, wolverine men, and reindeer dogs! Oh no!

"There's no turning back!" implored Cornelius.

"These abominations must be put out of their collective forsaken miseries!" shouted Dudley.

"The end is nigh, sons, prepare yourselves... brace your inner spirits... and fight with courage," suggested Golden Fox.

"Save some for me, bad boys, I still got a lot left in the tank!" I heroically stated.

These monsters were more powerful than the ones we fought previously but we were now four one-man armies who could not be stopped no matter how hard this pig monster tried. We were slowly losing stamina though. Climbing up the mountain just to get to the next plateau each time was tiring enough let alone fighting dozens of mutants, scumbags, and monsters.

We continued shooting, smashing, body slamming, and forearm chopping these mutants! Only a few remained.

"Gun Tech! Wrestle Tech! Skull Smash! BERZERKER BARRAGE!" we stated, as one. We were now fighting as ONE.

Our arms, our legs, our minds... were now fighting as... ONE.

We beat them!

Official Post-Battle Report
-----------------------------------

Scumbag Kill Count:

Cornelius: 51
Dudley: 39
Golden Fox: 32
Me: 20


Experience gained: 1,261 exp.

Corn gained a level! He is now level 16!
Dudley gained a level! He is now level 15!
I gained a level! I am now level 14!
Golden Fox gained a level! He is now level 31!

-----------------------------------


We were finally at the summit... standing before the one-winged werepig. She was floating above us, menacing at us, with her yellow pig eyes on her fat face.

"TELL ME WHY!? WHY DO YOU FIGHT!?" asked the horribly ugly woman.

"Because... it's the right thang to do. You can't harm the public any longer! Your days of murder, arson, and the consuming of human flesh... ENDS NOW!" replied Corn.

"You shall taste the butt-end of my Lillington! You shall reap what thou soweth, swine!" said Dudley.

"Yeah, you big sow! You're gonna get what's coming to you... you sack of human garbage!" I said.

"Begone! Begone from this place! Your foul stench makes my eye-holes water!" said Golden Fox.

"I SHALL DRINK YOUR BLOOD!" she threatened as pig vomit sprayed out of her filthy fat mouth and dripped down her evil blue jowls.

Pig tentacles sprang from the mountain beneath our feet! They looked like curly-wurly pigs tails! Oh no! We became tangled in them! OH NO! The tentacles were securely tightened around our arms, legs, and bodies. She cast us about slamming our heads and bodies around! She was too powerful for us! What were we thinking!?

"HAW! HAW! HAW! HEE! HAAAW! HAAARGH! GRRRRRAAAAGH!" the pig lady laughed, as she puked, and cast us about with her demonic tentacles.

We had over-estimated our strength. She really did have satanic pig powers like the intel files had stated and we should've avoided her at all costs... is it the end for us... for us four daring heroes? It seems so... we accepted our demises while the disgusting pig lady cackled and vomited...

But then...

A blade flew through the air! It severed one of the tentacles freeing Golden Fox! He sighed in relief as he caught his breath. A puff of smoke enveloped us!

Golden Fox sniffed the air...

"It smells like my cigars..." said Golden Fox.

In the cover of the fine-smelling smoke a mystery bladesman severed the rest of the tentacles... freeing us!

"Hon... hon hon.... hon," said the mystery bladesman.

"Germain..." said Golden Fox.

"Yes, it's me. I owe you... I must now do what's right. You can count on my sabres, Gold," said Germain.

"YOU TRAITOR! YOU TRAITOR! DIE! TRAITOR!" screamed the disgusting pig to her former righthand man.

She snarled at us and launched a wave of demon energy at us! Ah! We evaded and fought back... but our moves had no power against hers. Even our limit breakers couldn't even do slight damage against her. Our resolve was wearing thin.

We fought many rounds with her but to no avail... we planned our retreat.

While Germain was slashing at her with his steely blades we reconnoitred in a cavernous cranny in the mountainside... it was right in the nose of the late Precious O'Scumbag's facade.

"Sons... we must believe that good conquers evil. We must!" said Golden Fox as his friend, Germain, the woodman, fought the fat scumbag pig demon with his last burst of energy.

"I don't know, podnuh, this isn't going well... maybe sometimes evil conquers good... and steals their truck too," sadly said a defeated Cornelius.

"Help me! Helpeth me my sweet Lillington!" Dudley cried into the sky.

I'm not really much of a religious man... but... fighting satanic pig demons'll make anyone believe in a higher power. I closed my eyes, put my hands together, and started to pray. I thought back to all the people I met on my journey so far... Connecticut... the hobos... and Wes... and prayed and prayed and prayed," I prayed.

I closed my eyes... and heard a familiar voice...

"Moister! It's me! WES!" said Wes with a distinctive speech impediment.

"Wes? I thought you, like, disappeared back in Thunder Bay?" I said to my own thoughts.

"Yeah, moister, I did, cuz I'm a ghost! You know that. I died a long time ago... remember. I went back to heaven for a while and guess what?" Wes said to my mind.

"What?" I asked him... annoyed.

"I went to heaven for a while but it was boring! They told me I was going to go back to earth as the re-incarnation of some Prime Minister or something but then it turns out some, like, smarter God noticed something deep in my nature and promoted me!" annoyingly explained Wes.

"That makes no sense... I don't have to time to listen to your stupid shit right now either... I never should have given you that turkey... I don't even like you... you annoy the hell outta me and..." I protested.

"No one does! Haha! They were annoyed with me in Canadian Heaven so guess what, moister?" said Wesley the annoying ghost.

"Canadian Heaven? Hurry up! Ugh! I'm gonna die soon!" I said.

"They kicked me out of Canadian Heaven so I went to Chinese Heaven for a while... and... there they noticed something of a "pure nature" inside of me... and they freaked! They figured out I was the re-incarnation, of not some old Prime Minister, but of ERLANG SHEN!" babbled Wes.

"What?" I said more annoyed at him babbling at my brain than the pig demon lady at this point.

"I'm now the deity of Justice, Controlling Floods, Hunting... and Demon Subdual," explained Wes.

"Wait... what? Demon subdual? What's that?" I asked him less annoyed now.

"I have been entrusted with a holy spear that can subdue demons, can you believe it!?" Wes said.

"Okay, good, you can hang out with me again then... hurry up... re-appear now," I said.

"I can't! Hahaha!" laughed Wes.

"Dude... who are you talking to?" asked Corn.

"A spirit methinks," said Dudley.

"Yeah," I said.

"Moister! I can't re-appear yet! I have to finish my training in Heaven... but I'm your guardian angel now! Just think of me, when you're not strong, and you can channel my powers!" said Wes.

"Okay... so... I just think of you? Your annoying face and stupid voice?" I asked.

"Yeah," he responded.

I stood up and thought of the dirty urchin I met early on in my travels. I felt my mind's eye awakening. I felt a third-eye on my forehead opening to reality. Thought, reality? Reality, thought. What's the difference, I realistically thought to my own self. If Wes is Erlang Shen... and he lives inside of me... am I also Erlang Shen? Can I subdue demons?

"Namyo ho. Renge kyo. Namyo ho. Renge kyo. Namyo ho. Renge kyo. Namyo ho. Renge kyoooo," I began to chant in a language I didn't even understand.

"Son... you have eyes that I cannot see... yet how are they looking so deep into me?" asked Golden Fox.

"I don't really know, Golden Fox, but I know what I must do," I said.

My third-eye had awokened. I now know all the things. I walked confidently towards the big-fat pig woman....

"Mr. Germain, the woodman, it's my turn," I said.

"Hoooooon. Hon, hon," honned Germain as he escaped in a cloud of cigar smoke to safety.

"HAW! HAW! HEEE! HAW! BLARRGH! GRRRRAGH! PUKE! PUKE! HA! HAH!" the pig demon laugh-puked.

"Demon! Get ready to fight!" I commanded.

"....?" said the ugly monster woman.

"That's right! I fear not of any demon! I have good on my side! I need not anything else... for I am confident... that good conquers evil... every single time!" I said as I leapt towards the monster with a flying forearm strike!

"Geeeeee-YA!" it wailed as my forearm connected with her fat temple.

I transitioned the strike into a light short-arm clothesline, then while it was reeling, I gave it a stunning long-legged lariat! It couldn't believe the strength of my power!

"WOAH! PODNUH!" exclaimed Corn from the cranny.

"My goodness! What form! What prowess!" said Dudley.

"I don't know what spirit... but... he's possessed by the power of good," said Golden Fox.

I had it in a head lock. I looked up to the sky! Help me Erlang Shen! Give me strength! Give me power! I gave it a DDT! BAM! Face-first on the rocky mountain-top! It shrieked in demonic agony!

I went for its legs and swung it over! I locked it deep in a Boston Crab!

"Noooooooo! MY LEGS! AAAAAARRRGH!" the monster puked in agony.

"GO! GO!" my friends cheered me on as I tried to break its back and make it humble.

"Your time in the sun is over... you stupid demon!" I said as I pulled its legs with powerful force.

"BLLLLLAAAAAARGH! NO! I! I! I CAN GIVE YOU MONEY! OR CRACK! OR MAPLE SYRUP! OR FIREWOOD!" it whined like a stupid fat ugly pig.

"I don't want nor need those petty things... all I want is to break your back!" I said confidently.

I pulled its legs back as hard as I could... and...

SNAP.

I broke its back... and it died. Purple, black, and red smoke filled the air and then slowly dissipated. I let go of its legs... and when the evil smoke was all gone... I looked down. All that remained was a pig's skeleton. It was no more. The hideous pig woman was finally dead.

"YEAH!" yelled Corn.

"GLORY BE TO YOU!" said Dudley.

"That's the way. That's the way, son," said Golden Fox.

"Great job," said Erlang Shen to my mind.


Stay tuned for the epilogue!

To Be Continued...


We descended back down the mountain and back to the lair.

We were ready to finally leave this town. We went deep into the lair to find their vehicle collection. They had a yellow submarine, a World War II motorcycle, and a 1982 Custom GMC Van painted black with a red racing stripe down across the side.

Corn's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree!

"CLANG! CLANG! CLAAAANG! Well, jangle my bells! Looks like Christmas just came early this year! There's my new wheels, podnuh!" said Corn as he eyed the 1982 Custom GMC Van.

"It's a van, though, not a truck," I reminded him.

"I don't care. I've wanted one of these since the 80s!" replied Corn.

Golden Fox started smoking cigars... he was about to disappear forever... and I knew it.

"What will you do now, Golden Fox?" I asked him.

"I will tear down the faces on the mountain... and go back to my quiet hermit life," he said as he began to be consumed in cigar smoke... he then... disappeared... forever.

Dudley was about to leave my party forever as well. He looked at us, as if, his story was complete... he had avenged his sweet Lillington.

"Where will you go now, Dudley?" I asked him.

"Wherever the wind taketh me, fellow, wherever the wind taketh me," he mysteriously replied.

I later learned that despite doing the right thing... Dudley was dishonourably discharged from the Horse Police. Go figure. Do the right thing and be punished for it. Same old story.

We said our goodbyes.

As for me? Well I kept on walkin'... now, it seemed I was being guided on my Journey by an ancient Chinese ghost of some sort. What did he say his name was? Yang Zhi? No. Lin Chong? No.... oh yeah... Erlang Shen. I was now being guided by the spirit of Erlang Shen....

and...

Well, I turned away and never even looked back on that sorry no-good rotten town.