Chapter XXVI – The Rescue
For some unknown reason completely unrelated to the fact that we wanted this to have a bang up ending, the house started exploding in random locations as Jim Stalin and Jack Wack went inside to try to find Jim’s wife and kid. It was not at all hospitable, but it was not bad enough to put them in the hospital either.
"Oh brother," Jim said, "Here we go with the puns again."
"Just get a move on," the author told them, "You have a wife and kid to save."
"So you keep telling me," Jim said, "I’m getting sick of hearing about that."
"Then do it already," Jack suggested, "The sooner we save them the sooner this ends and the sooner this becomes a bad memory for all of us."
"True that," Jim agreed, "Let’s go."
They plowed through the smoke and debris to make it to a rather rickety looking staircase. Jim looked up and thought he saw Elvis, but most likely that was because the author was tripping while listening to some really bad Lisa Marie Presley song while trying to crunch out the last 1300 words of this ridiculous story. He turned to Jack and grinned.
"I think you should go first," Jim said, "You’ll see them first."
"Hell no," Jack said, "I’m just a gay Jewish black dude. You’re the idiot hero. You can march your ass up those steps. They don’t pay me enough to die that quick!"
"Fine!" Jim sighed, "I’ll do it."
Jack watched as Jim went up the stairs and only fell through twice. He grinned and dodged around the holes, joining his old friend at the top of the poorly protected building. It was opulent and like most overpriced opulent buildings they didn’t know a damn thing about fireproofing.
"This place is going up like a Christmas tree," Jim said, "We need to get them out quickly."
"They’ll be in the far back," Jack said, "Don’t ask me how I know. That is always where they are in cases like this."
"True," Jim nodded, pulling out a gun that he took off Adam Dirtpassion’s body, "You know, he was armed and still tried to beat me to death. Gotta love that."
"Of course," Jack said, "Why kill cleanly when you can beat them to a bloody pulp and get killed by a soufflé."
"Jim Stalin," they heard a sexy voice call out to them, "We’re in here. We’ve been waiting for you."
The two men walked into the room and found it to be a rather appropriate final lair for a villain of Reizvolle’s sexual caliber. It was the scene of many improperly documented romps by a certain group of heiresses who had cocked up a plan to take over the world through the use of bad television and porn videos.
"Come on in here," Reizvolle cooed, "I’ve been waiting for you."
"Yes," Jim nodded, "I see that. You are alone now. You know that, right?"
"Did you ever doubt it would be that way?" Reizvolle asked him, "You, me and the black fossil."
"We’re still here, Jim," his wife said, "Don’t forget about your son and me."
"Son?" Jack said, "I thought you had a daughter?"
"Whatever," Jim grumbled, still staring at Reizvolle, "So we’re here now. What was so all fired important about getting the black fossil that it caused all of this damage? I just want to know."
"You think this is the part of the story where the villain sees the error of her ways and breaks down blubbering as to where she went wrong?" Reizvolle said, "Is that what you really think?"
"Yes," everyone said in unison.
"Oh," Reizvolle nodded, "In that case, I guess I’ll admit it. I miss the old Michael Jackson. I spent years dreaming about him. I want to restore him back to something I can drool over. I want my youth back!"
"And you think that taking my family and getting this black fossil will do all of that for you?" Jim asked her, "Why was that worth so many lives?"
"It wasn’t," Reizvolle said, "But if I didn’t go this far overboard you would have run out of plot some forty seven thousand words ago."
"I can’t argue with that logic," Jim agreed, "But it’s over. We have the fossil."
"I have your family," Reizvolle said, "I hold the cards."
"No," Jim said, "The author does. There is one major logical flaw in your arguments here."
"What is that?" Reizvolle asked, "I have a gun, your family and I want the black fossil. What have I forgotten?"
"You’ve run out of time," Jim said, "You’re not holding a gun, you’re holding a banana. The black fossil is burning as we speak in the Gremlin that you set on fire downstairs and the audience is getting really bored of your sexiness. They also don’t want to make me have to hit a lady, so you’re going to do something stupid and accidentally kill yourself."
"Like what?" Reizvolle said, dropping the banana and pacing, "Now that makes no sense."
"You won’t hurt my family," Jim said, "You would rather torture me by leaving them alive."
Reizvolle thought about her options for a moment as she paced. Unfortunately, she was running out of time and interesting things to do. So instead of try to figure out a way to end her place in this book gracefully she stepped on the banana and slipped, falling backwards and impaling herself on a shard of glass as her beautiful but lifeless body tumbled down to the ground to lay on top of Adam’s.
"Poetic," Jack said, "A fitting end."
"Can you get me out of here now?" Jim’s wife asked him, "Our son too?"
"I thought we had a daughter?" Jim asked as he untied his wife.
"I thought I had married Jack," his wife said, "We all make mistakes."
"Like marrying him," Jack agreed, "So what do we do now?"
"We need to go to the epilogue," Jim said, "Right Angie?"
"I thought her name was Alisa?" Jack said.
"Whatever," Jim and his wife said as they kissed, winking at the audience as they did so.
And now it is time to go to the epilogue, to wrap up everything in the same way that everyone should wrap things up. With an idiotic musical number designed to make the whole plot seem even more absurd than it did a few minutes before.
Epilogue – Always Look for the End of the Plot
The final number started the music, a nice little rousing tune that was very similar to the Monty Python tune "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" but was of course just different enough to avoid a lawsuit, as the few people living in the final chapter managed to make their way out of the burning mansion.
"Cheer up, Jim," Jack started, feeling happy to be alive, "You know what they say…"
"What?" Jim said, then heard the music.
"Some plots in life are bad, they really are so sad," Jack sang, "Other ones just make you retch and hurl. When you’re writing such phishizzle, don’t mumble, Give them sizzle… And this will make things turn out quite a mess…"
"Very nice," Jim said, his wife nodding approval.
"And… Always look for the end of the plot," Jack sang, whistling in the middle "Always look on the far end of the plot…"
Admiral Sackenbrenner and Jim’s kid joined in on the whistling this time as Jack began singing again.
"If this plot seems wholly rotten," Jack sang, "There’s something you’ve forgotten, and those are called plot holes and that sort of thing… When the plot is in the dumps, play your silly chumps, Just plot yourself into a corner that’s the thing… And…"
The annoying French cop joined in with the chorus this time, as did Jim’s wife and a few stray mooks that meandered up onto the plot line now that the fighting was over.
"Always look for the end of the plot," they sang, followed by the requisite whistling.
"Come now!" Jack sang, "Keep whistling!"
"Always keep in mind some sort of plot…" they all sang, followed by the infernal whistling again.
"Yes this plot is quite absurd," Jack sang, while Jim enjoyed the song, "And this song’s the final word. It’s curtains for the bad guys anyhow… Forget how dumb it’s been… How we’ve made the reader’s cringe…"
They all started singin
g together again, every living person that has been forgotten from the earlier list and probably a few mooks who managed to scrape enough parts to have enough of a larynx to sing with.
"Ignore it… It’s on it’s last gasp anyhow…" They all sang, "Always look for a plot that has already left…"
They whistled again…
"Hey we’ve beaten this plot to death…" They sang before continuing the whistled.
"This plot is full of it," Jack sang, "When you look at it. It’s full of death and crude jokes, it’s true. You’ll see it all to go, keep laughing until you know… Just remember that the sequel is all about you… Oh…"
They were about to sing some more of the song, but then the author realized that he had finally passed the fifty thousand word mark and that this song was no longer needed to finish. So he stepped out from the group that was singing and looked at his watch.
"What are you looking at?" Jim asked the author, "We’re not done singing yet!"
"Wait for it…" the author said, looking up, "Just a moment now…"
The group kept singing and laughing as a helicopter flew overhead. Suddenly, from out of the blue it was obvious that the helicopter had something very familiar hanging from a wire. It was amusing because it was the old dilapidated Gremlin. Somehow the helicopter had dredged it up and brought it back.
"There’s the Gremlin!" Jim exclaimed, "They’re bringing it back to us!"
"Such a good car that was!" Jack nodded, "Right here guys!"
The helicopter came over and released the car. It dropped like a stone, just like it was meant to and made a direct course towards our hero and his gay Jewish black dude friend….
SPLAT
"That’s that then," the author said as the Gremlin flattened all the characters, "Nothing more to see here. I told you that I was going to do this. Now sod off. Go read a good book. Or at least something other than this because this is a portion that I like to call the end of the book. The moral of the story is don’t keep writing after the characters piss you off. Goodbye!"
The author walked away and went to bed with his wife, his adventures in nanowrimo completed and normal writing back to what it should be.
THE END
Word Count Chart for the Black Fossil November 1st through November 25, 2004.
Other Titles by Rodney Mountain
Immortal Universe Novels
The Healy Murders
Durell’s Insurrection
The Accidental Immortal
Undercover
The Killer Strikes
Anoki's Revenge
The Immortal Progression
Corporate Immortality
Not With a Whisper
The Mullinix: Ascension
The Mullinix: Redemption
The Mullinix: Resolution
Other Works
Night Strike (Short Story Anthology)
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