The stoic college dropout that entered the convenience store had been overconfident. The warrior that exited was unstoppable.
Treachery had been unmasked and defeated. Powerful forces had come down from the sky only to be dispatched and mocked. A vomiting slurpee machine, an unemployable comic book colorist, thousands of rounds of spent brass, a tacticool monkey, and a sodden copy of Genetically Improbable Sluts lay spent and discarded on the floor. The building was nearly destroyed.
Emerging from that man made, neon lit hell, the destroyed former glory of the Church of Awesome, Billy stood tall. Flanked by his freshly deprogrammed best friend and a reeking racist bear, Billy alone was meant to be the leader. All that would ensue, would come at his order.
“I have seen battle”, he announced to the universe, “and I have kicked everyone’s ass!”
With a certainty of purpose that would make Marcus Aurelius blush at the unconstrained hubris, Billy commanded:
“Squirrels! In the car. Now.”
In a flash of fur and tail, the two squirrels dove past Billy, swished over Doogie, and huddled on the car’s dash. All their careful mind-work seemed weak and ineffectual when exposed to the full fury of the NSA and Ghostbusters. In Billy they’d awakened something new and unpredictable. Doogie had warned them. There was male and there was man. They’d ignored his warnings and what had seemed like a gawky male college student was now a God.
Folding an ego that had grown two feet in the last hour into his seat, Billy grasped the wheel. His wheel. His car. His fate. He’d played patsy for those damn rodents for too long.
He gave a wild eyed cackle. Addressing the cowering and battered creatures on the dash he chortled. “Welcome aboard ladies.”
(The squirrels bristled at the implied misogyny; which had absolutely no impact on the leering Billy. Perhaps this was his intent?)
He reached for his car stereo, ejected the CD and winged it out the window. A modern remastered version of Abba’s Greatest Hits took flight and lodged in a tree. Billy, who’d been the best of them at avoiding the siren song of electronic gadgetry, produced a cheap MP3 player he’d left, unused, in the ash tray. His eyes glinted in the LCD’s light as he scrolled. He made his selection, jammed a crude patch cable into the stereo’s aux jack, and started the car.
Then he floored it.
“A modern day warrior
Mean, mean stride
Today’s Tom Sawyer
Mean, mean pride… Blap Blap Ba BLAM!!!!!”
With the single power chord, the squirrels knew all hope was lost. Canadian libertarian arena rock flooded the vehicle and there was no going back. Merciless cymbal crashes and thick layers of sound pulsed into serial crescendos as the Subaru tore out of the parking lot at speeds that would have been unsafe had they been halved.
“Gentlemen!” Billy shouted over the cacophonous din. “You have comported yourself well. Our enemies hang their heads in shame!” Bart and Doogie grinned involuntarily at the compliment. “Join me now… in celebration!”
Then Billy let loose with a deep throaty wolf howl of the sort that could give Bela Lagosi nightmares. It was as if he wanted every predator of every forest to know a new sheriff was in town. Surprising himself, Doogie joined in. Soon Bart added his own repertoire of barks and growls. All this was heaped over the mountain of rock and rebellious lyrics blasting from the Subaru’s overtaxed stereo.
Disco never had a chance.
The squirrels held tight to each other and shook. Testosterone was afoot and no lilting harmonious Swedish girl band was going to stop this juggernaut. They’d be lucky to live out the day!
Billie wasn’t done. After he’d howled himself out, he announced, as if it were fact and not open for discussion (because it wasn’t), that things were going to be different.
“I’m in charge now.” He beamed.
“We had a deal and I’ll abide it, because that’s what men do.” At this Doogie, swept up in the moment, let out another howl… and Bart joined in. Billy, smiling, magnanimously let them finish. Then he continued.
“No more sneaking around. The NSA is onto us.”
“And the Ghostbusters!” Doogie added, well aware the squirrels were vague on the concept of fiction.
“And the Ghostbusters too.” Billie rolled with it. “So now we go to Portland my way. We will not sneak in like weaklings. We will kick in their front door and show those hippies who’s boss!”
The squirrels were miserable. They’d no idea Portland was a walled city! As if that wasn’t bad enough the newly turbo charged Billy was about to lay siege to it.