Randal Telk and the 396 Steps to Sexual Bliss (2 page)

Elena reached for her sidearm, but faced a dozen spider cops, assault rifles drawn. She raised her hands.

“
You will be locked up for one hour,
”
advised the spider cop, pointing to a cage by the sidewalk.
“
Let that be a lesson to your evil unsafe jaywalking ways!
”

Elena stooped to enter the cage, and sat. Passersby pointed and gossiped about the human pestilence jaywalking legionnaire. She was rumored to be a serial jaywalker, but this was her first time in custody. Kids threw candy, feeling sorry for the human pestilence. Elena watched a digital timer marking her sentence to the second.
F
or this humiliation
, s
he swore revenge on that bug cop when she got out.

As Elena
’
s sentence expired, a van pulled up alongside the cage. Hooded spiders exited, binding Elena, and tossed her in the van.
“
Elena Ceausescu
,” one of them announced, “you are
now a hostage of the Fist and Claw.
”

“
You will be sorry!
”
threatened Elena, still struggling in the van.
“
The Legion will not tolerate this atrocity. My husband will hunt you down to the ends of the galaxy, and kill you all slow and painful!
”

* * * * *

I met with the spider commander of North New Gobi City, as
wa
s my custom whenever there
was
a border incident. He seemed to express genuine concern about the alien abduction of Corporal Ceausescu.

“
I hold you personally responsible,
”
I accused.
“
Corporal Ceausescu was locked up in one of your portable jails when abducted.
”

“
I assure you, I am just as concerned about Elena
’
s welfare as you,
”
replied the spider commander defensively.
“
Elena is one of the few human pestilence I care about, even if she did turn into a serial jaywalker. We were intimate once, you know.
”

“
Until Elena sobered up and almost killed you with a frying pan,
”
interrupted Master Sergeant Green.
“
Your death would be no big loss.
”

“
Jealousy rears its ugly head,
”
scoffed the spider commander.
“
Elena dropped you for me. I am not surprised your inadequacies surface in the presence of a superior male of the species, such as myself.
”

“
Ceausescu was a
puta
,
”
commented Major Lopez
.
“
That explains her poor taste
.
”

“
Corporal Ceausescu is a fine legionnaire, and our only medic,
”
I advised.
“
The abduction of a legionnaire is a serious matter, and the press is already turning it into an intergalactic incident. How could you be so negligent to not have jailers watching your portable jails?
”

“
This from the Butcher of New Colorado?
”
bristled the spider commander.
“
How many innocents have died in your custody?
”

“
None! I just get bad press, like what you
’
re going to get if the Fist and Claw harms Corporal Ceausescu. Do you have any suggestions about how we get her back?
”

“
There is a cave and tunnel system in the heights north of town. I propose a joint operation between Arthropoda and
the
United States Galactic Federation
. We’ll form a
task force to rout out the Fist and Claw terrorists.
”

“
The Legion doesn
’
t need your help,
”
argued Master Sergeant Green.
“
Stay away from Elena.
”

“
No matter, you are getting my assistance anyway,
”
insisted the spider commander.
“
I will not allow the Legion to trespass and run amuck without an
official Arthropodan military
escort.
”

“
Corporal Ceausescu has moved on from both of you and is happily married,
”
I commented.
“
Get over your personal differences and work together. Our enemy is the Fist and Claw.
”

“
Yes, I heard Elena married a lowly speck of human pestilence, a Private Randal Telk of your Legion,
”
replied the spider commander, checking the database on his communications pad.
The spider commander frowned, focusing many of his eight eyes on his pad as he mumbled, “
Military Intelligence
has compiled
a dossier on Private Telk and his rumored three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss. And what
is
the Big Bang Theory? That
’
s impossible!
” The spider commander shook his head. “
As Lopez noted, there is no accounting for bad taste.
”

* * * * *

With spider approval
,
a
company of legionnaires
was deployed at
North New Gobi City Heights, along with gas-pumping equipment to flush the terrorists out of their tunnels. One of the anxious legionnaires was Private Randal Telk. Private Telk was alarmed as he read the instructions for the concoction they were brewing to pour down the spider holes.
“
Walmart anti-mole remover,
”
read Private Telk aloud.
“
Guaranteed to eliminate moles, or your money back. What if this stuff eliminates Elena?
”

“
Collateral damage is always a possibility,
”
answered Master Sergeant Green.
“
Don
’
t worry, Corporal Ceausescu will tough it out.
”

“
Maybe we should go down the tunnel ourselves,
”
suggested Private Telk.
“
I
’
ll go down.
”

“
The tunnel system is too extensive, and it
’
s too dangerous,
”
Green replied dismissively.
“
This is the best way.
”

There has to be a better way,
thought Private Telk, as he drifted off into another daydream. For Telk, reality was often blurred. A Legion psychiatrist and recruiter promised to fix his psychosis. However, even a lucid Private Telk knew there had to be a better way to get Elena back.
Under duress from his worry about Elena’s safety, Telk fell into fantasy mode...

* * * * *

Randal Telk
’
s job was to clear tunnels. Someone had to do it, so it might as well be the baddest, meanest, deadliest commando in the world. Telk loved his job, delivering death to an enemy who felt safe and invincible underground. Many times Telk turned down promotions to the officer corps, not wanting to
g
ive up his one-man subterranean carnage upon the enemy.

Telk
’
s job was simple. Crawl into the enemy
’
s lair, look for bo
o
by
traps and weapons, and kill anyone inside. The enemy labeled Telk
‘
The Devil
’
s Dick.
’
Telk always found his prey, making it seem he was i
n league with the Devil.
The enemy knew if they encountered Telk, they were fucked, their time alive measured in seconds. Telk was amused by the notoriety among the enemy, so on his chest he tattooed a Grim Reaper sporting an erection. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Telk studied the dark hole he was about to enter, always mindful of traps. The entrance was just big enough to squeeze through. Last week Telk had almost been killed by trip-wired explosives. Telk found a large cache of munitions, and four terrorists playing poker. Now they play
ed
poker in Hell.
It was a good week.

Telk
’
s commander was a typical officer, a pussy to the core. The man had never entered a tunnel in his life, but demanded others risk their lives. Beady-eyed with impossibly small fingers, chopped off in a paper shredder accident at Headquarters, the Army grafted cadaver pinky toes on the fool
’
s hands, saving money on disability pay. It amused Telk to watch his incompetent boss struggle to pick his nose with stinky hammer-toe nubs.

Today Captain Hammer Toe demanded the tunnel be cleared, but it was rumored to be full of snakes. Telk had already found one viper, biting its head off and spitting it on the captain
’
s boots. Telk once bit off one of
the ears of
Mike Tyson
XXIV
on a dare, so the snake was no big deal. Telk hated his commanding officer and planned worse for the fool. It was only a matter of time before Telk was pushed too far.

“
Care to lead the way, sir?
”
he taunted.
“
Show me how it
’
s done. I heard you hate snakes.
”

“
Get your ass down that hole. I
’
m through screwing with you!
”

Telk lit a cigarette, in no hurry. After finishing the smoke, he entered with bare essentials – flashlight, large jagged combat knife, and sidearm. He was a natural underground, moving fast like a groundhog on a mission. There was no light, and the air was foul. Telk
’
s fart added to the unbearable stench. He sensed he would meet the Grim Reaper today for sure.

Telk daydreamed in his daydream, sometimes living vicariously through himself, worrying of his beautiful wife Yolanda, kidnapped by terrorists, and still missing. How she must have suffered from withdrawal symptoms, cut off cold turkey from Telk
’
s three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss. Those bastards would pay!

Randal Telk
’
s vendetta against the terrorists was legendary. The CIA often called upon Telk to rout out terrorists from their caves and other nefarious dens. Once the President himself called upon Telk to eradicate a rogue mouse that terrified the White House staff. Telk unmercifully tracked down Willard and his family of mutant rodents. Telk
was decorated
for that one.

* * * * *

“
Fire in the hole!
”
shouted Master Sergeant Green.
“
Telk! Get your head out of your ass and duck! Fire in the hole!
”

Yellow gas was pumped down the spider hole. Puffs of smoke rose from other entrances. Soon a lone spider climbed out, coughing and gasping for air. It wasn
’
t a terrorist, though. It was only Private Seven-Legs, a spider legionnaire deserter and homeless bum extraordinaire.
“
Anyone got some spare change?
”
he asked.

“
No!
”
Master Sergeant Green shot Seven-Legs, closing his final chapter.

Chapter 2

Corporal Ceausescu struggled with her restraints. Fist and Claw terrorist leader Invisible-Claw lorded over her in triumph. He motioned to his subordinates to roll Ceausescu onto her stomach.

“
What are you doing to me?
”
asked Ceausescu.
“
Is that my fate, to be probed by pervert aliens?
”

“
You have a Legion tracking device hidden in your ample birthing thighs,
”
explained Invisible-Claw, examining butt tissue under a magnifying glass.
“
No longer is there a need for surgery. One burst of micro-electromagnetic pulse will melt the chip.
”

“
I
’
m not being probed?
”
asked Ceausescu, almost disappointed.
Almost. Maybe a little.
“
Hey! Did you just call me fat? What do you mean by
‘
ample birthing thighs?
’
How dare you!
”