Editor’s Note: Just before now, Jed Foster and Middleschmertz Reilly are beared down upon by Surprise Truck. That’s all you need.

Chapter 6: Wheel of Shame

“I’ll be a son of a bitch!” exclaimed Jed Foster, proposing what many others had already suggested. “Paulette Standiford!”

Yes, Paulette Standiford—the brilliant and beautiful conspiracy-cracker formerly of the government agency N.O.R.T.O.N., but now putting her talents to the aid of Anti-N.O.R.T.O.N. underground operatives; Paulette Standiford, who had partnered with Jed Foster on a multitude of adventures in prequel stories yet to be written, or even thought of; Paulette Standiford, whose name had been rewritten from Studebaker since the last chapter.

“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” said Reilly, and he actually was. “Jed said you were dead.”

“The only thing that’s dead is Jed’s sex life,” innuendoed Paulette. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think we have a Surprise Truck to deal with.”

Paulette couldn’t have spoken more timely, or sexier, since Surprise Truck was still barreling down on them like a beer-barrel-ish truck. It’s honking could be heard miles and miles away, and even though it goes 200 miles per hour, it had somehow not hit them while they were talking.

“Jump!” said Reilly, pushing Jed, who pushed him back and started a small fight before they lunged from the path of the truck. Surprise Truck raced past them, rolling over a nursery, a pet store selling baby kittens, and a nun training school.

“That’s a wicked truck!” snapped Reilly. “What do you think we should do, Paulette?”

She commanded they follow her, and they liked being bossed around; together they found their way to Paulette’s motorcycle, which could go 201 miles per hour—fast enough to outrun Surprise Truck.

“We can’t run from her forever!” said Jed. Then he considered inventing a pair of cybernetic running legs with a nuclear power generator, that could conceivably keep them running long after their bodies had passed on and turned to dust; but that was stupid, and would be hard to build with the Truck right on their tails. He was right the first time, they couldn’t run forever.

“If I can lure Surprise Truck away, maybe one of you two,” she said, pointing needlessly at Reilly and Jed Foster, “can climb up in her cab and pull the emergency break.”

Jed and Reilly looked at each other and shared a glance so meaningful I’m not going to try to describe it.

“I’ll do it,” said Reilly.

“But Reilly! That’s almost certain death!” He wasn’t sure why he said that.

“We’ve all got to die some time, Jed—but not me. I’m going to live forever. So watch this.”

Reilly foolishly took off, and started his plan by hiding in an alleyway. Jed thought about stopping him, but didn’t want to get killed himself, too. He felt like a failure. Reilly had the courage to face Surprise Truck head-on, but Jed had shrunk from the task.

“Finish your internal monologue later!” snapped Paulette. “Hop on! Here comes Surprise Truck!”

Honk! Honk! declared the Truck. It was the only part of her that wasn’t mad.

Next Chapter: Bomb of Ages Harvey Potluck and the Wish Bitch
When things seemed they could get no worse, an ominous expression meaning they of course did get worse, he was called to Professor Opatricka Robinson’s office. The Asst. Principal of Hogwash had always been very cool to him, but not cool like the guys it’s okay to smoke pot around.

Surprise Truck
And Reilly was right, for down the street, rolling at approximately two hundred miles per hour, was the largest truck in the world, not to mention the fastest, which I just mentioned.

The Idiotad
And all of this, so the story goes, over the honor of a woman. A hippy, full-breasted woman with lips like a couple of pillows and a tendency to drink a little too much.

A Fistful of Tannenbaum, Chapter 4: Different Day, Same Bullets
“Amen to that!” said Jed. Then, in a John Woo-esque display of imaginative poetic violence, he leapt aside from the table, firing well-targeted shells into the henchman not given a name.

1997: The Conquest of Saturn Soil
“Oh? The ship must be compensating for its loss in capsule pressure by increasing section in the back part,” Mike Harder said scientifically.

Alistair Schit
None of these things, however, happened to Alistair in his small room, all alone. He might have sang a song, if that’s your pleasure, but probably mostly he touched himself in an illicit fashion I will not detail. But at some point, he ungirded the protective casing on a window. Did I mention there was a window?