Big Gay Bear

"This is unbelievable," said John Patriot, referring to something he did not believe.

On the screen before him was a series of dots that meant nothing to the average Joe Six-Pack or his wife Jane Smoking-Tree. But Patriot instantly recognized the pattern.

Felix Nustle, a bureaucrat of the oldest ilk, stood nearby, hands crossed over his beer barrel chest. "What do you make of it, Patriot? We found it in the hideout of the subversive terrorist cell we apprehended outside Drinkenbad, Germany. We were afraid even you, the C.I.A.'s foremost expert on all things terrorist, wouldn't know"

"I'm afraid I know all too well what it is," said Patriot, though he really wasn't afraid. "It's a map of chemical laboratories. If I have to guess, I'd say these laboratories store some kind of biological weapon, such as anthrax."

"Good lord!" exclaimed Nustle. "That's extremely disturbing—and topical. How can you be sure it isn't something even more frightening, and I'm just using a 'fer instance,' but something like nuclear-grade plutonium?"

"I considered that," condescended Patriot, pacing before the computer-generated map. "Then I realized that there's too many of them. Nowhere in the world would there be this many nuclear facilities that close to each other. But I recognize the pattern from a cluster of chemical laboratories in the Ukraine I helped dismantle a few years back."

"Wow, you've been everywhere," said Nustle in awe. "Well, that's a relief. At least you've already dismantled the potential threat."

"It's not over yet," said Patriot, picking up a phone and dialing a real long number. "I dismantled those chemical laboratories after the fall of the Soviet Union. But in post-communist Russia, the Russian mafia took them over and remantled them in my absence."

"You mean…?"

"I'm afraid so," said Patriot. "They're still mantled."

The phone rang in Russia and eventually was picked up by Mikhail Yvynokstof, a burly large Russian with a loud, infectious laugh, and the clap.

"Greetings, caller," said Yvynokstof. "I am sorry you called but I am not home at the moment."

"Can the jokes, Yvynokstof," said Patriot, grinning his phone call grin. It's John Patriot."

"John Patriot!" exclaimed the girthy Russian. "Truly this is a cause to celebrate. I will break out my finest Vodka and we shall drink. Since you are not here, I shall have the larger portion."

"I'm not calling to listen to you drink," snapped Patriot. "We've got problems. I think a terrorist group known as Ala-Carte is planning to steal biological weapons from one of fifteen labs in the Ukraine."

"Great Lennon's ghost!" yelled the moderately-rotund Russian. "Big Gay Bear!"

"Yeah, well you mother goes down more than a German U-Boat."

"No, comrade," said the monsterish Russian. "Is not insult. Is great Russian biological weapon. It was to be a defensive weapon against American troops, should cold war antagonisms ever lead to actual fighting. Various germ agents are stored separately throughout Ukraine to prevent accidentally making weapon when bored lab assistants fuck around with materials. My comrade… Ala-Carte is not planning to hit one of fifteen laboratories… but all fifteen!"

It was the worst thing John Patriot had heard of since the last novel. He scratched his chin thoughtfully and then his ass. It looked like this was to be his strangest mission yet, teaming up with his old Russian adversary to stop the rising threat of Islamic fundamentalist terrorism so popular these days.

The King of the Road (Part 2)
Author's note: In preceding chapters, returning King Luthor of Kuntnose finds his kingdom in the hands of the evil dark enemy Rupert. Fleeing the kingdom with his loyal knight and drinking buddy Sir Bainbridge, Luthor of Kuntnose befriends a... (3/17/03)

Fluffiest Gable
Gleenex hopped spritefully into the meadow. It was large, full, and green, like an Incredible Hulk sated on a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. He saw a group of rabbits playing in the distance, mostly hopping, which was the extent of rabbit... (2/17/03)

The Sunflower Seedlings
The grass was scrapey as it struggled to escape the ground and clawed at the legs of all who ran through it in tiny shorts. In tiny shorts on this occasion were the two little girls. Biffy was frail and waif-like, a gentle sunflower stretching to... (2/3/03)

The Tell-Tale Cell Phone
TRUE! I am shitting bricks like some kind of gigantic house-building robot, but does that make me crazy? Fuck you if you say I'm crazy! Fuck you and all of your crazy-saying friends! Fuck you right in the antelope! Yeah, I'm crazy like the bionic... (1/20/03)