Thomas Forcible, alias Peter Rank, alias The Red Splot, alias Dorothy Lamour, the Sultan of Swap, Old Blue Oculars, Samwise the Recliner King of What Cheer, Bix, Bruce, Bobby or Brice, but close friends called him Stan, was speeding along the Olsen Motorway, which had been renamed from the Holbrook Highway. Previous to that it was simply State Route 85, before the land was colonized it was known as Bison Pass and prior to that it was called Stegosaurus Walkway Number 357. Stan, alias Thomas Forcible, alias Peter Rank, alias The Red Splot, alias Dorothy Lamour, the Sultan of Swap, Old Blue Oculars, Samwise the Recliner King of What Cheer, Bix, Bruce, Bobby or Brice, sped down this storied street in pursuit of the notorious Latchkey Kid, bank robber, cat burglar, identity thief, racketeer, counterfeit mustache creator, jaywalker, potato juggler, tax evader, high top fader, shoelace together tier, made you looker, and all around no goodnik. “Latchkey Kid, you are mine,” Stan, alias Thomas Forcible, alias Peter Rank, alias The Red Splot, alias Dorothy Lamour, the Sultan of Swap, Old Blue Oculars, Samwise the Recliner King of What Cheer, Bix, Bruce, Bobby or Brice, muttered under his breath, shifting his Buick Lustello into 45th gear.
The Latchkey Kid was wanted in 53 states, including the made-up states of Aardvarkansas, Pooisiana and Even Newer Mexico. Some knew the Latchkey Kid as the Wet Bandit, the Shaq-Foosball Mascot or Bad, Bad Lee Raw Umber. Other pseudonyms included Sue Denim, Madrock McAwesome Blossom, Norville Rogers, Guitar Guy, Onyx the Second, Nickelback Strickelback, Kid Disestablishmentarianism, Qbert Burgertime and Meteorologist Ed Wilson. What this multi-monikored monster was doing zooming down the Olsen Motorway in a hijacked smart car was unknown. Rumor had it he had purloined treasures from three years into the future. But Stan, alias Thomas Forcible, alias Peter Rank, alias The Red Splot, alias Dorothy Lamour, the Sultan of Swap, Old Blue Oculars, Samwise the Recliner King of What Cheer, Bix, Bruce, Bobby or Brice, didn’t know. What he did know was that on this moonless, star-filled, sun might be over in the corner there night, he was on the Latchkey Kid like white on rice, like brown on a paper bag, like yellowish green on the late Chester Allan Arthur.
As the Olsen Motorway merged into Interstate 1,698,422,352 or Highway 4, signs appeared, warning of road work ahead and mysteriously absent shoulders. The moon showed up in the sky, finally. Then the sun followed suit. The moon was all, whatever, and stole the limelight, literally, eclipsing the sun and plunging the night into even darker darkness. The stars were all, “yipes! Let’s get outta here!” and fled. It was just the moon, the sun, the Latchkey Kid, and Stan, alias Thomas Forcible, alias Peter Rank, alias The Red Splot, etc., etc., etc.
In all the celestial confusion, the cars collided. The two adversaries ejected and drew weapons at one another. Stan unholstered his 45 magnum; The Latchkey Kid upholstered his loveseat. He also brandished a large canvas bag containing scores of stolen futuristic merchandise. 4-D glasses! Serious straws! Talking calculator watches! And the mother of them all- the hoverboard! “Hand them, over, Latchkey Kid!” Stan shouted. “You know it’s a crime… to steal.”
“Am I such a criminal?” the Latchkey Kid hissed. “I mean, sure, I rob banks, burgle cats, counterfeit mustaches, tie shoelaces together and make you look, but are those really the really real crimes? What about the real crimes? Like the criminals in Washington, or in our nation’s capitol? What about kids eating fast food instead of carrots and grapes? Or people who make fun of other people just because they’ve got huge noses or stupid names? At least I didn’t scheme a bunch of elderly people out of their life savings! At least I didn’t de-fund the public school system! At least I didn’t release the second season of Joan of Arcadia without getting the rights to Shaking the Tree first! So villainize me if you must, for my stealing, for my racketeering, for my cooler than thou hairstyle, but don’t forget to look in the mirror, and ask yourself, am I so innocent? Am I really me? Who am I, really? Which me is looking back at me, in this mirrored glass we call a mirror? What is that?” He pointed behind Stan, who looked, as he was made to. And with that, the Latchkey Kid unleashed one of his signature smoke bombs, ollied away on his hoverboard and disappeared in the black nighttimey night. Stunned, hungry and fussy, the Snooper Spy walked away in disgust. It was going to be a long night of paperwork for Stan, alias Thomas Forcible, alias Peter Rank, alias The Red Splot, alias Dorothy Lamour, the Sultan of Swap, Old Blue Oculars, Samwise the Recliner King of What Cheer, Bix, Bruce, Bobby or Brice.
And then, because these things always end with an explosion, the sky blew up.
SKY-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!
TO BE CONTINUED????????
Mark J. Hansen
