The Black Fossil

  Chapter XXV – Finding a Forgotten Family

  After driving outside of the building Jim climbed onto the front of the Gremlin and installed the black fossil to the front end on a hastily designed spinner that mimicked the pointing function that many video games used to tell you where you needed to go next. Jack kicked back, did a quickie repair on the 8-Track player (you really didn’t think a simple bullet would kill that, did you?) and let the strains of Elton John come out of the player.

  "You had to fix that, didn’t you?" Jim asked him, "Ugh, just don’t try to sing to it."

  "We’re too close to the end," Jack said, "I don’t think we’ll be singing again until the author has to find a graceful way to close out this farce."

  "True," Jim agreed, "I guess we drive in the direction that Michael Jackson’s nose points until we find my family."

  "That just sounds very odd," Jack sighed, "But that’s what I’m doing. I’ve put it on cruise control and am just steering in that direction. We’ll make it there someday."

  "Cruise control?" Jim wondered, "On a 1978 Gremlin?"

  "Sure," Jack nodded, "Take a look. It was my own installation."

  Jim looked down at Jack’s feet and saw that a cement block that was held in place by a frayed bungee cord was holding down the gas pedal. Jim nodded appreciatively and sat back as the car was steering itself in the direction that Michael Jackson’s nose was pointing them.

  "I think you’re about to hit that old bag," Jim said, "Might want to turn."

  "I don’t have control over it," Jack reminded him, "The nose took over a half hour ago."

  "Man," Jim said as they hit the old woman, "I hope we didn’t just flatten someone’s mother."

  "No name, no foul," Jack shrugged, "Look at the way she splattered. She was a refugee from the International House of Mooks™.

  "That works," Jim agreed, "How much farther do you think we have until we find them?"

  "Well," Jack said, hitting the word count button that magically appeared on their dashboard, "Looks like we have a good five thousand words to go. Consider that we’ll spend about three thousand of it dealing with this story and another two wrapping up, not to mention the final show stopping musical number…"

  "I guess we’ll find them in about two hundred to a thousand words," Jim said, nodding appreciatively, "Very well. Let’s watch the cows fly by a few times."

  Out of nowhere a cow flew out of the clouds to just speed through the air around the Gremlin a few times. It was amusing to see and wasted a few words. As soon as it hit the ground some of the meat flew up on the cleanest part of the engine. They had not had anything to eat since that meal in Paris so they were hungry enough to eat a beefsteak that was properly cooked on the hot motor of the Gremlin.

  "Mmm," Jim said, flipping the steaks, "You want yours rare or medium?"

  "Let’s go for well done," Jack told him, "With as little motor oil as you can manage this time, eh?"

  "That works for me," Jim nodded, "I’ll take mine medium rare and hope that it doesn’t start mooing on me."

  They chomped on their steaks as the car drove closer and closer to the place they needed to go. Of course, since we still have some time to kill, we are going to leave them behind for a bit to eat their steaks and go back to the place where Adam and Reizvolle were hiding with Jim Stalin’s family. It is only fair and a great way to kill some time until the actual fighting starts.

  "So what do we do with them now that we have them?" Adam asked Reizvolle, "Since it is quite clear you’ve become the head of our little conspiracy here."

  "We let them come to us," Reizvolle shrugged, "I mean really, do you really think I need a plan. They have the black fossil. It is all powerful. It is all knowing. I bow down to the black fossil."

  "Do you even know what the black fossil is?" Adam asked her, "This thing that is all knowing, all powerful and that you’re bowing down to?"

  "No," Reizvolle shrugged, "But then again I don’t really need to know what it is because I’ve already decided to bow down to it. It doesn’t make any less sense than bowing down to a political leader or a cult guy. The black fossil is probably going to do less damage in the long run."

  "That works for me," Adam acknowledged, "Besides, you can’t sleep with that like you did that idiot hero."

  "What idiot hero?" Mrs. Stalin said, "My idiot hero?"

  "Hush," Reizvolle said, ignoring Stalin’s wife, "We have evil deeds to plan. Because we’re actually here and talking again you know as well as I do that Jim Stalin and that gay jewish black man who has been riding with him is going to show up at any time now. How many mooks do we have on site?"

  "Too many," Adam told her, "I’m running out of food and they’ve drank all my liquor."

  "Let them," Reizvolle shrugged, "No need to feed them. You know darn well that Jim Stalin and his friend are going to plow through them like Michael Jackson at a grade school."

  "Allegedly," Adam quickly added, to keep in legal bounds, "There’s no proof that Michael Jackson would do anything more than scare a group of grade schoolers."

  "Right," Reizvolle said, "Anyway, it will be as easy as a Clinton Intern for him. Those mooks are only there to give us a bit of time to think."

  "I’d rather spend the time doing something else," Adam said, "I mean you did the hero of this book. The least you can do is spend at least fifteen seconds doing the same thing with me."

  "Doing you isn’t funny and this is a comedy, not a tragedy," Reizvolle reminded him, patting his head, "Now get that thought out of your head. You’re going to die a virgin. I should know. We’ve probably only got about four thousand words or so to live."

  "My god," Mrs. Stalin said, "I never thought that Jim would play around on me!"

  "Look at me," Reizvolle said, "I am a hot blonde with a sexy foreign accent. You are a minor character that nobody knows the actual name of nor has anyone bothered to describe. Doing you would be an exercise in boredom, you lower middle-aged wench. You’re here to be a plot point. A reason to get that idiot here. You don’t think he really cares about you, do you? He can’t even remember your name."

  "To be honest," Adam suggested, "I doubt that she even knows her name."

  "Well… Well… I… I…" She said, thinking about this, "You know, I don’t know what my name is."

  "Exactly," Reizvolle said, "He’s going to come here to further this thing we jokingly call a plot. He could care less about you or the kid."

  "Cruel," Adam said, "But probably true."

  "I’ll get you both," she said, "As soon as I puzzle out a few things."

  "Whatever," Reizvolle said, "So do you have the mooks placed appropriately, Adam?"

  "Sure," he said, "It will be a pretty shade of crimson on the ground by the time they get here."

  "Make sure they take out that Gremlin," Reizvolle warned, "I’m sick of hearing about that thing."

  Almost as if it was on cue, the Gremlin came roaring into the grounds of the expensive mansion that they had infiltrated in order to have an appropriate place to have the finale of this book take place. The mansion was big, opulent and belonged to a certain heiress pain in the rear that didn’t have enough brains or talent to do anything other than star in a little watched movie that was paid for by a rich boyfriend.

  They crashed through the gate, sending two mooks flying artistically into the air, one of which managed to get thrown onto the top of the fence, getting impaled on a large pole, which was really disgusting but a rather artistic end for a mook. The other one landed on top of his head, which was about nine points for style but minus twenty two hundred points for a lousy landing.

  "Good one," Jim said, "How did you manage to hit so well?"

  "Easy," Jack shrugged, "I used to drive a cab in New York City."

  "That would do it," Jim nodded, "Two mooks down, according to the report we got from Admiral Sackenbrenner’s account there are six more hanging around this place."

&n
bsp; "Gotta love criminal stupidity," Jack grinned, "There’s a reason Admiral Sackenbrenner lets the International House of Mooks™ keep billing his credit account for the bad guy’s mooks. It’s cheaper than actually having a decent intelligence agency case the place before we get here."

  "Not going to argue with that logic," Jim nodded, "Especially since this story has proved that there is very little logic of my own."

  "So what do we do?" Jack wondered, "Do we go in the front way, sneak around like cowards or put the Gremlin on cruise control to smash into the front of this overly opulent piece of garbage mansion?"

  "I like that idea," Jim said, "It will give us a chance to go commando on some of these mooks."

  "One cruise controlled Gremlin coming up," Jack said, putting the cement block back into place, "Let me tie off this steering wheel after I direct it at the mansion."

  Once the Gremlin was set off properly Jim and Jack hopped out, only having to do a miniscule jog to keep from losing their footing. They went slowly around the back of the mansion while the Gremlin kept on course. Adam Dirtpassion looked out the window and saw the unmanned Gremlin.

  "Runaway Gremlin!" Adam screamed, running over to Reizvolle and jumping into her arms, "We only have a minute! Let me spend ten seconds of it showing my passion for you!"

  "Go away you idiot," Reizvolle said, "They’re here. The mooks should be working on them now. You’re the only real man among them so you had better get out there and start working on stopping them from getting us. They had to have brought the Black Fossil with them, so I will try to find that while you are keeping them busy.

  "We’re partners!" Adam said, "Why do I have to fight them?"

  "Because I’m not going to do it," Reizvolle said simply, "I’m pretty, you’re not. Get used to it and go beat on that hero."

  "What about me?" Jim Stalin’s wife asked them.

  "I’ll be back for you when I fail to find the Black Fossil," Reizvolle told her, "You and your icky little kid too."

  Adam slipped out the back to find that Jim and Jack had started the fight with the remaining six mooks without him. Reizvolle went to the door and found that the Gremlin had gained a bit of speed and was about to break through the door. It was rather amusing to see it fly through the door, spread out a few chunks of debris, and stop a few inches from Reizvolle’s feet.

  "How quaint," Reizvolle sighed, "Must find the black fossil…"

  Meanwhile, we switch back to the area where the actual fighting is going on. Jim was beating on one mook while the others simply watched. Jack Wack was bored with it and sitting on the stairs polishing a silver watermelon, thereby giving lift to two offensive stereotypes which he has. We’re not even going to go into the aberration that would have to be described to get into the third.

  "This is amusing," Jack said to Adam as the villain came out to watch the fight, "You’d think that after this many years and this many bad books and movies the International House of Mooks™ could come up with a model that could realize that they might have a chance to win if they ganged up on the hero."

  "Yeah," Adam nodded, "They are pretty disappointing. Too bad IHOM is the only disreputable mook supplier in the United States and Western European territories."

  "I don’t know," Jack told him, "The former Soviet block mooks are turning out to be a bit better. They’ll cost you a bit more to import, but it is easier to make them do things and there are less restrictions on their usage."

  "I’ll have to remember that for later," Adam said, "Where were you when we visited IHOM a few chapters ago?"

  "Riding with him," Jack yawned, "It’s been a long drive, but what the hell."

  "Wait a minute," Adam said, "You’re that gay Jewish black dude!"

  "Guilty as charged and insert some lovely Yiddish saying here," Jack said, "Remember, we had dinner back in Paris?"

  "Yeah," Adam nodded, "About twenty-five thousand words ago. I guess I should try to kill you."

  "Not worth your time," Jack reminded him, "I’m gay. He’s the one that did the girl you’ve been trying to do the entire book."

  "That’s right," Adam nodded, wincing as Jim managed to kill one of the mooks rather violently, "I guess you wouldn’t be worth my time. Unless it would piss him off."

  "You already took his wife and kid," Jack reminded the rather dull villain, "Why would killing me piss him off any more than you already have?"

  "True," Adam sighed, "Practice?"

  "I’d wipe the floor with you," Jack said, "You’re not that good. Besides, save yourself for the big fight. I think you’re going to be fighting Jim before too long."

  Both men ducked the body of a mook as Jim managed to throw another one across the yard at the door. Jim was making a good show of it, especially since the mooks were going in one at a time. Jim beat on them extensively, giving Jack and Adam some more time for inane bantering.

  "So do you think you’re going to win?" Jack asked him, "Really?"

  "Of course I do," Adam said, "I have to. That’s my job, remember?"

  "To win?" Jack said incredulously.

  "No, of course not," Adam said, "That would be silly. No, my job is to think I can win and try right up until anyone a slight bit saner would run like hell."

  "That is the first thing that you’ve said that has made sense to me yet," Jack nodded, watching Jim kick a mook’s balls up through his teeth, "I applaud your sense of story."

  "I can’t help being this way you gay freak," Adam said in an attempt to make everyone hate him even more, "I just want to kill you both because I’m a psychotic homophobic imbecile with a rather insane obsessive desire to have sex with that slut Reizvolle Dirne."

  "At least you know what you are," Jack nodded, "I can’t argue with logic like that."

  Jim was wailing hard on yet another mook while one of the previous ones walked by and pissed out of his mouth. He was trying to readjust to live with a penis and testicles that had been forcibly kicked up to that position. Rather than try very long he took a gun out and blew what little brains he had left out.

  "Nice," Jack sighed, "This is getting monotonous."

  "Sure you don’t want me to try to kill you?" Adam asked him, "I really could use the practice you know."

  "Patience my psychotic non-friend," Jack said coolly, "I think Jim is about to kill the last of the mooks. Then it is all up to you."

  "Oh very well then," Adam said, nodding, "I think I’ll wait and save the knuckle pain for the one who actually did have some sexual relations with the girl I want to marry."

  "You are a complete psycho," Jack said, "You know this, right?"

  "Of course I do," Adam nodded, "But that’s ok. I think I see the guts of the last mook. I believe it is my turn to go through and kill your friend. Do forgive me, but when I finish with him I will have to come finish you off."

  "I’ll be here," Jack said, nodding, "I do believe you won’t be back, however."

  "Really?" Adam shrugged, "Well, I guess we’ll see about that."

  Jack shrugged and watched as Adam walked over to start his final fight with Jim Stalin. Jim Stalin walked around a little bit and looked at the larger man who was completely clean. Jim was covered in mook blood and various other remnants from the fights he just finished.

  "Ahh," Jim said looking at his nemesis, "You know, we have been shooting at each other for a whole book now. You know what this means don’t you?"

  "We’re married and don’t know it?" Adam said, trying to figure out what Jim was up to.

  "No," Jim said, shaking his head, "It’s time for me to kick your butt. I’m sick of running. I’m sick of killing. I’m sick of people like you taking my family every few years!"

  "Whine, whine, whine," Adam said, "If it weren’t for us taking them you’d forget you had them."

  "That’s not the point!" Jim exclaimed, "They deserve better than this! They deserve to live a pointless life in the suburbs and to start doing drugs at an early age. Then the
y deserve to grow up, go to detox and live entirely screwed up lives where they talk about how messed up their absentee father made them. That is what I wanted for my family, not to have them stolen by a hot psycho woman and an imbecilic criminal mastermind and made to remember that I don’t know what the hell my wife’s name is!"

  "Wow," Jack said, "Nice speech, Jim."

  "I never thought about it that way," Adam said, "That was touching, Stalin. I mean that."

  "Does this mean that we don’t have to fight this out?" Jim asked hopefully, still a bit tired from the mook fights.

  "No," Adam shrugged, "It means that I still want to kick your butt, but I’m going to have a slight bit more regret about it later."

  "Great," Jim said, "I guess we had better get this over with, shall we?"

  "Yes," Jack said, "Stop talking about it and kill each other already so we can get on with what we laughably call a plot."

  "Very well then," Adam said, "Any last words?"

  "Yes," Jim said, rearing up and kicking Adam Dirtpassion straight in the balls, "Wear a cup next time, Adam."

  Adam’s face contorted in pain as he was not used to getting this much pain from that area. This was not his first run as a villain but it was the first time any of the heroes stooped low enough to kick the villain in the nether regions. Jim didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to lay that pain in the rear down on the ground just once before the beating commenced.

  "You… Will… Die… For… That…" Adam gargled as he went down a bit and gained his composure. He finally came back with a soprano voice, "You are a dead man!"

  Adam launched himself into Jim Stalin, trying to tear the hero apart with his hands. Jack went over to the porch and took a large shovel to keep in case things got out of hand. Jim wasn’t going out lightly though. He was fighting and giving as good as he gave. Adam punched Jim in the throat, Jim punched Adam in the side. Adam punched Jim in the side, Jim punched Adam in the solar plexus. Adam tried to punch Jim in the balls, Jim walked up behind him and cracked him upside the head with a wooden plank taken from the table next to him.

  "Take that!" Jim said, grinning as he watched Adam go down, taking the stunt double with him, "Do you really think I’m going to get hurt that much before I find my family!"

  The stunt double, thoroughly beaten on, left the scene and left Adam facing off with the real Jim Stalin this time, instead of the poorly written double that had taken out the mooks. Jim danced around, fully refreshed because he hadn’t fought with anyone yet."

  "Must… Kill…" Adam gargled, "Must… have… sex…"

  "I don’t think you’re going to be capable of that for long," Jim said, "I think I’m going to kill you."

  "You… don’t… have… the… balls…" Adam croaked.

  Jim grinned, reared back and kicked Adam so hard that what was left of his balls went up into his throat. Adam reared back and lunged at Jim Stalin, trying to beat on the man until there was nothing left to beat on. Unfortunately, Jack Wack still had that shovel and the clang that came when Jack brought it down accidentally on Jim’s head alerted people to a fight from miles around.

  "Ow! Wrong imbecile!" Jim croaked, as Adam’s hands were wrapped around his neck, "Get this lunatic off me!"

  Adam, not being completely stupid, managed to turn the thing over, strangling Jim harder with his left hand while punching him with the right hand. Jim groaned and fought to move his hand. Jack tried to whack Adam again, but the plate in Jim’s head had dented the shovel, making it much more difficult to aim. Jim managed to get things flipped over and get on top.

  "Dude," Jack said, "That looks almost like fun. Or at least it would be if you could actually breathe."

  "Kill… him…" Jim growled, "Now!"

  "All right, all right," Jack said, "How do you want me to do it?"

  "I… don’t… care…" Jim gurgled, "Just do it!"

  "Right then," Jack said, "Here goes!"

  Jack had an epiphany and went over to the bar on the porch and got a soufflé from it. Do not ask me what a soufflé was doing there, but it was there and it was just the right size for Jack to piss in. Piss in it he did, as people had been threatening to do for this entire book. Jack went over and jammed the pissed in soufflé into the psychotic imbecile’s face while using the shovel to break one of his arms.

  "I pissed in your soufflé!" Jack exclaimed, pushing the pan into the villain’s face, "Die Adam!"

  Jim fought the hands as Adam drowned in the pissed in soufflé. It took a few minutes, but the large form finally went still and they were able to extricate Jim from the body. He shuddered as he looked at the soufflé covered criminal imbecile.

  "Did you have to resurrect that joke?" Jim asked Jack, "That was disgusting."

  "I didn’t do it!" Jack protested and pointed through the screen at the author, "He did!"

  "I had to kill him somehow," the author told them, "You’re down to about thirteen hundred words before I get bored of this. Get your butts upstairs and save your wife and kid from that hot blonde."

  "All right," Jim said, "Jeeze. I’ll get enough lecture when I see Sara."

  "I thought her name was Sally," Jack said.

  "Whatever," Jim said crossly, "Let’s go."