Tag Archives: crime

September 4, 2013

Knick-Knack Paddy Whack – Friday Fictioneers

Knick-Knack Paddy Whack

Gut-twist, I call it—that hard, acidy stomach punch that comes when I smell the bright-red odor and see the crimson flowers blooming all over the walls and floor.

I do clean-up. Paddy lets all the red out and I collect it up in a bag, along with Miss Gone-Far-Away (it’s always Miss).

Paddy laughs at my knick-knacks, calls me a baby. But he lets me do it ‘cuz Miss Gone-Far-Away don’t need them anymore. So I take a coin, a charm, maybe a watch.

Sorry, I whisper to them every night. Sorry you met Paddy. I just do clean-up.

(Find this confusing? Want an explanation? Click here.)

49 Comments | tags: creepy, crime, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, knick-knack, mass murder, murder, souvenir | posted in Friday Fictioneers

July 1, 2013

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet: Epilogue

By David Stewart

In this Decide Your Quest story, The Mystery of the Missing Amulet, you were a police officer assigned to guard an estate auction. During the auction, an ancient Egyptian amulet was stolen. The beautiful granddaughter of the deceased, Brittany, had tried to steal it but she had grabbed the wrong thing because of her eyesight. You also find that she is addicted to danger. Your investigations lead you to Wombat Joe’s Grizzly Bear Emporium and an employee there, Midnight Gillespie. You retrieve the amulet and Gillespie is arrested. Last week, the viewers voted to ask Brittany out because although she’s addicted to danger, at least she’s hot.

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet: Epilogue

“Brittany, would you go out with me sometime?” you ask.

“Oh yeah,” she says. “I love a man in uniform.”

“This isn’t just the danger addiction thing, is it?”

“No, not at all.” She glances down at your holster. “Does that pistol have a safety switch on it?”

“Yes, of course!”

She sighs. “I see. Pity.”

You date her for a few months and eventually ask her to marry you. You get married but then she joins the professional bear-jitsu circuit and she is away from home a lot. This is fine with you though since she keeps putting cobras in the closet and slipping bits of broken glass in the food. Love is tough sometimes.

Midnight Gillespie is sentenced to five years in prison until the judge takes pity on him for his sheer stupidity and lightens the sentence to house arrest. Even there, he inadvertently gets locked in a closet and spends much of the sentence in self-imposed solitary confinement.

Joe Wombat’s Grizzly Bear Emporium is shut down for being a horrible place for the bears to live. They are scheduled to be returned to the wild, until someone points out that they do not know how to survive in the wild anymore. So, instead they are released into the New York City subway tunnels and forgotten about. This causes a drastic drop in the rat and pigeon populations in the city and despite the occasional bear attack in Central Park, everyone is much happier.

The End

I hope this installment of Decide Your Quest was fun to read, since it was fun to write. I will probably do another one at some point, although not right away. In any case, what type of story would you like to read and participate in next?

5 Comments | tags: amulet, auction, bears, crime, Decide Your Quest, fiction, grizzly bears, mystery, Mystery of the Missing Amulet, police, poll, theft | posted in Decide Your Quest

June 24, 2013

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet #6: Everything Wrapped Up

By David Stewart

This is the sixth and final chapter of my Decide Your Quest story, The Mystery of the Missing Amulet. In the last story,you go to Wombat Joe’s Grizzly Bear Emporium and find Midnight Gillespie, who has the amulet. He throws it into the bear pit and you jump in and grab it. You dodge them with your ballet knowledge and Brittany knocks them out with bear-jitsu. Midnight Gillespie takes off in a helicopter. Last week the readers voted for you to shake your fist in impotent rage.

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet, Chapter 6: Everything Wrapped Up

You shake your fist in impotent rage at the retreating helicopter. Probably best since there was nothing appropriate to throw at him.

“He’s getting away!” Brittany yells. “Why didn’t you throw the baby grizzly at him?” You’re rather shocked she would even think of such a thing.

“You know, I’m not sure why I’m doing this all on my own,” you say. “I’m going to call back to headquarters.”

You call back to police headquarters and get roundly yelled at by the lieutenant for not reporting in earlier. However, he grudgingly accept your story about the theft and promise to send a police helicopter out to find Midnight Gillespie.

You go back to the police station with Brittany to make out your report, although you neglect to mention that Brittany had been attempting to steal the amulet all along.

The next day you find out that Midnight Gillespie has been arrested. He had gotten away in a local TV news helicopter after he promised to give them an exclusive on who stole the amulet, effectively confessing to the crime and giving himself up.

Your lieutenant describes him as “an incredibly dim individual and the worst criminal I have ever seen.” He goes on to add that “only a series of freakish events and a colossal amount of incompetence on the part of the guard and auction house staff could result in Midnight Gillespie successfully committing any crime.” Apparently the bear hair and his name tag left at the scene were accidental.

However, then he commends you for regaining the amulet and your suicidal bravery in leaping into the bear pit. For some reason, he likes it when you do suicidal things.

“You’re one special officer, sonny boy,” he says in an avuncular way. “I’m promoting you back to the rank of Rookie, from the special rank of Sub-Rookie we had to demote you to after that . . . unpleasantness last year with the mayor and the K-9 unit.”

“Thank you,” you say, saluting. There is no medal, but he does let you take the special Sub-Rookie badge of shame off your uniform.

Brittany is waiting outside for you. “Well, hot stuff. I guess we made it. It’s almost dinner time. Can I take you out on a date?”

Hmm, she is pretty hot, but on the other hand, she’s got some pretty big issues. Big, scary, exciting issues.

6 Comments | tags: amulet, auction, ballet, bears, crime, Decide Your Quest, fiction, grizzly bears, mystery, Mystery of the Missing Amulet, police, poll, theft | posted in Decide Your Quest

June 17, 2013

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet #5: Bear-jitsu

By David Stewart

Chapter 5 of my Decide Your Quest story, The Mystery of the Missing Amulet. In the last story,you go to Wombat Joe’s Grizzly Bear Emporium and find Midnight Gillespie, who has the amulet. He throws it into the bear pit. Last week the readers voted for you to jump into the bear pit to retrieve the amulet before the bears ate it.

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet, Chapter 5: Bear-jitsu

There isn’t a moment to lose. Your boss always says that the best thing about you is your willingness to do something insanely stupid without thinking. You leap into the bear pit without another thought, landing next to the amulet a second before the bears reach it. You snatch it up and then dodge a swipe from a bear paw that undoubtedly would have disemboweled you.

You are surrounded by hungry grizzly bears. A large female charges and you dance to the side, ducking under another and pirouetting around a third before making a flying leap over the biggest male. Apparently those ballet lessons your mother made you take when you were small were worth all the emotional scarring.

Someone lands in the pen beside you. It’s Brittany and you can tell by the fire in her eyes that she is in heaven.

“This is awesome!” she screams. “I haven’t been in this much danger since the Bleach ‘n’ Piranha Water Polo Classic.”

“Get out of here unless you know ballet,” you shout, pulling a complicated evasive arabesque.

She doesn’t know ballet, it seems, but it also doesn’t seem to matter as Brittany explodes on the bears, becoming a tornado of fists and flying head kicks. A minute later and all the grizzly bears except one baby (because seriously, who kicks a baby bear?) are lying stunned on the ground.

“How in the world did you—”

“Bear-jitsu,” she says. “I’m only a rainbow belt, but I think I did okay. You got the amulet?”

“Yeah, it’s right here,” you say.

At that moment, you hear a helicopter above you. A ladder is let down and Midnight Gillespie leaps on.

“He’s getting away!” Brittany shouts, totally unnecessarily.

If only you could stop him somehow.

10 Comments | tags: amulet, auction, ballet, bears, crime, Decide Your Quest, fiction, grizzly bears, mystery, Mystery of the Missing Amulet, police, poll, theft | posted in Decide Your Quest

June 10, 2013

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet #4: Bears Ahoy!

By David Stewart

Chapter 4 of my Decide Your Quest story, The Mystery of the Missing Amulet. In the last story,you found that Brittany, the granddaughter of the former owner of the amulet, tried to steal it but since her eyesight is so bad, she accidentally stole the auctioneer’s gavel. You found grizzly bear hair, a brochure for Wombat Joe’s Grizzly Bear Emporium and a nametag that said Midnight Gillespie. The readers voted for you to go to Wombat Joe’s to investigate.

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet, Chapter 4: Bear’s Ahoy!

You decide to go check out Wombat Joe’s Grizzly Bear Emporium. It’s almost 5 pm already and according to your sources (Google), it closes at 5:30.

“I think we should go to Wombat Joe’s,” Brittany says.

“I was thinking the same thing,” you say.

“We should go wrestle the bears,” she says.

You weren’t thinking that at all. “Is this part of your danger addiction?” She nods.

You drive over to Wombat Joe’s Grizzly Bear Emporium, getting there after it closes. The emporium is like a huge park, where the visitors walk on walkways over the bears. Signs instruct visitors to taunt the bears as much as they want and throw food.

“Bears are not fed a regular diet and subsist only on dropped hot dogs and lollipops,” one sign reads. “Please be generous. But also, watch your kids and pets.”

“Come on,” Brittany says. She starts to climb over the fence.

“Wait!” you whisper. Someone is just coming out of the main building. He looks like an employee. “I’m going to go charm him,” you say to Brittany.

“Excuse me, sir!” you call out, walking over to him. The man jerks his head up and gives you a look like a trapped hyena. “You’re looking very fine this evening,” you continue. “I’m looking for a man named Midnight Gillespie—”

The man punches you in the face and flees back into the building. Son of a Tim Tam! That really hurt! You run after the man, who luckily did not get a chance to lock the door after him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Brittany has gotten her dress tangled in the top of the fence.

You follow the fleeing figure along several suspended walkways until he is trapped in a corner of the park. Underneath, you can see (and smell) the bears quite well. They are only a few feet below you.

“Are you Midnight Gillespie?” you ask, panting for air.

“Is that what my nametag says?” the man jeers.

“You’re not wearing one,” you say and pull out the nametag you have from the crime scene. “I think this is yours. Now, did you steal the amulet from the auction?”

“I didn’t touch any amulet,” the man says. Immediately, in direct contradiction to his words, he pulls out the amulet from his pocket and throws it over the side. Three bears run for it immediately. What should you do?

8 Comments | tags: amulet, auction, bears, crime, Decide Your Quest, fiction, grizzly bears, mystery, Mystery of the Missing Amulet, police, poll, theft | posted in Decide Your Quest

June 3, 2013

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet #3: Brittany’s Secret

By David Stewart

Chapter 3 of my Decide Your Quest story, The Mystery of the Missing Amulet. In the last story, the amulet up for auction was stolen and you, the main character, saw Brittany and an auction house assistant running away from the scene. The readers voted for you to chase after Brittany.

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet, Chapter 3: Brittany’s Secret

You sprint after Brittany’s retreating form. She must be scared, the poor dear. She’s running pretty fast, almost like she’s had training.

She rounds a corner and you see her run straight into a plaster bust of Kim Jong-il that’s sitting in the hallway. Pieces of Dear Leader go flying everywhere.

Maybe she’s not such a great runner after all.

“Are you okay?” you ask, running up. She’s lying there, stunned. “Hey, are you tired? Because you’ve been running through . . . the halls all night.” You abruptly abort your pickup line as she glares at you.

“Just help me up, would you?” she snaps. You pull her out from among the fragments of plaster and notice she is holding one hand behind her back. It must be her purse.

“Do you want me to hold your purse while you get dusted off?” you ask, holding out your hand.

She sighs. “You don’t have to play stupid with me. Alright, I’ll confess. I stole the amulet.”

You stare at her in utter shock. You hadn’t expected that at all. Britanny takes her hand from behind her back.

“Here’s the amulet. Just arrest me if you’re going to.”

“This is the auctioneer’s gavel.”

“Not again!” she cries. “I swear I’m as blind as a bat wearing sunglasses in a mineshaft. I have glasses but I never wear them.”

“Why not?”

“I like danger. I’m addicted to it,” Brittany says. “That’s why I wanted to keep my grandfather’s cursed artifacts, even though my family decided to auction them off. And that’s why I stole the amulet.”

“But you didn’t steal the amulet,” you say. “You stole a gavel.”

“Then someone else must have taken it.”

“Let’s go back to the scene. There might be a Clue there.” You are a great believer in Clues. You put the gavel in your pocket and lead the way back to the auction room.

The room is deserted. You get out your magnifying glass and look around the platform. You find three strands of grizzly bear hair, a pamphlet for Joe Wombat’s Grizzly Bear Emporium, and a name tag for an employee of the emporium named Midnight Gillespie.

“I think,” you say slowly, “that the culprit works at Joe Wombat’s Grizzly Bear Emporium.”

“Don’t you think there’s a bit too much evidence?” Brittany says. “It seems a bit obvious.”

“That’s true, although the culprit probably knows that and so is giving us a lot of clues so we’ll think they’re not real.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Brittany says. She turns brusquely on her heel and walks into a wall.

As you rush to her aid, you ponder what your next move should be.

6 Comments | tags: amulet, auction, crime, Decide Your Quest, fiction, mystery, Mystery of the Missing Amulet, police, poll, theft | posted in Decide Your Quest

May 27, 2013

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet #2: The Theft

By David Stewart

This is Chapter 2 of my Decide Your Quest story, The Mystery of the Missing Amulet. In the last story, you, the main character, accidentally bid 150,000 dollars for an old Egyptian amulet. The readers voted for you to retract the bid and explain the mistake.

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet, Chapter 2: The Theft

You know you have to retract the bid: $150,000 is like ten years’ salary for you.

“I didn’t mean to bid,” you mumble.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the auctioneer says, “did you just say you want to raise your bid?”

You turn to Brittany to explain, when she puts a hand on your arm. “That was a noble gesture,” she says, “especially with the curse that is on that amulet. I’m so happy you’re going to buy it though.” She bats her eyelashes. She’s batting a thousand in your book.

“I’m just going to go talk to them about means of payment,” you say in a hoarse voice and walk quickly to the front.

“I wasn’t trying to bid,” you whisper to the auctioneer. He gives you a hard stare that reminds you of that one teacher from high school that still gives you nightmares. Yeah, you know the one. You start to fidget with your gun.

Bang!

Oops, you forgot to put the safety on when you were playing with it before and you just shot a hole in the floor. The assembled crowd of dignitaries and millionaires all start to scream like little girls and stampede towards the back of the room.

The auctioneer faints at the sheer impropriety of everything and you rush to try to catch him, except that your finger gets caught in the trigger and you shoot another hole in the floor. The auctioneer hits the ground pretty hard.

You turn and see that the amulet is gone. An auction house assistant is running off the stage to the left, talking on a cell phone. Brittany is running off the stage to the right.

She runs pretty well in that dress.

Pretty well indeed.

Sigh.

You slap yourself. This is the time for action. What should you do?

10 Comments | tags: amulet, auction, crime, Decide Your Quest, fiction, mystery, police, poll, theft | posted in Decide Your Quest

May 20, 2013

Decide Your Quest – The Mystery of the Missing Amulet

By David Stewart

I’ve decided to write a Choose Your Own Adventure-eque story, but since Choose Your Own Adventure is copyrighted, I won’t be using that phrase ever again. So, welcome to my Decide Your Quest series. And you, as the reader, will get to vote on what will happen at the end of every episode.

Another feature of this story is that you will never die, no matter how mind-blowingly certain it seems. This is because in a normal . . . story of this kind, you die about a third of the time and have to go back and choose another path. This makes it feel like the writer is pushing you in a certain direction. Not the case here. Every option is viable. So, without further ado, here is The Mystery of the Missing Amulet.

The Mystery of the Missing Amulet

The auctioneer’s voice drones on and on from the front of the room. Everyone’s eyes are stuck to him, like your tongue to that frozen light pole that one time when you were six.

Not your eyes though. You’re only here because the lieutenant made you come and guard the treasures that are being auctioned off. You yawn and flip the safety of your pistol on and off. You wonder how far you could pull the trigger before the gun goes off, but decide not to try.

“I’m glad we have a big, strong man in uniform here to make sure we are well protected,” you hear a feminine voice say right behind you. You turn to see a gorgeous woman in a red dress, which is slit up the side of her leg. It’s also slit along the shoulder. And the back. It kind of looks like it was recently in a knife fight. The woman bats her eyes at you in an overt way. Everything about her seems to sparkle.

“Are there terrorists around, because you’re a bombshell,” you say. The woman laughs. Huh. First time that line’s ever worked.

“This was my late grandfather’s collection,” she says. “We thought we should sell it off, what with the curse and all. By the way, my name is Brittany Fiona Rattleshack IX.” It sounds like a fake name, but at the moment, you don’t care.

“I’m sorry, can you text me our GPS coordinates?” you say. “Because I just got lost in your eyes.” Brittany laughs again. Booyah! Two for two.

“So where are you staying?” she asks.

“I’m staying upstairs, in the hotel,” you say, raising your hand and pointing to the ceiling.

“I have $150,000 for this beautiful Egyptian amulet, from the uniformed gentleman in the back,” the auctioneer says.

Oh crap! He thought you were bidding. What do you do?

15 Comments | tags: amulet, auction, crime, Decide Your Quest, fiction, mystery, police, poll | posted in Decide Your Quest

April 12, 2013

In Your Dreams, Inc.

By David Stewart

People are weird. Their thoughts are weird and their dreams are even weirder. I should know—it’s my job.

Have you ever had one of those dreams that made perfect sense, even after you woke up? It was like someone was writing a movie and playing it out in your brain while you slept. It had production value. Of course, the next night, it’s usually back to some jumble of nonsense about teddy bears, an ominous-looking toaster, and your Grade 4 teacher driving a taxi.

Imagine you could dream those cool, complicated dream every night—chasing bad guys, flying around like Superman, and still waking up fresh as spring breeze? You can now, thanks to In Your Dreams, Inc. It’s popular, let me tell you. The guy who founded it is a multi-billionaire now. Not that I see much of that though—I’m just an extra.

Source

* * *

“Brad, here’s the script for the Harper drug-bust scenario.” Heather hands me a single sheet of paper.

“What is he this time, the drug lord or the cop?” I ask.

“Actually, he’s the briefcase. They carry him in, open him up, then test the drugs. When the cops show up, he’s thrown into the evidence locker for a while, then ends up as Exhibit B in the trial. That’s when he wakes up. Hey, I got you a speaking part this time.”

I look at the script and find my name. “‘I gotta go pee”? What kind of a line is that?”

Heather shrugs. “He wanted to throw a subliminal hint into the dream somewhere. He says he always wakes up with his bladder almost exploding and he wants to start waking up before that point. Don’t worry; everybody starts at the bottom. You do a couple ‘I gotta go pee’ gigs, then move on to ‘you got the drugs?’ or ‘the giant lemon bounced that way.’ Before you know it, you’re the guy explaining to the dreamer how he’s the only one who can save the planet. Baby steps, Brad.”

An hour later, I’ve gotten through makeup and am on the sound stage with the rest of the actors. Abraham Lincoln is the drug lord this time. I’ve worked on a few Sammy Harper dreams before and for some reason Abraham Lincoln always shows up somewhere. I was a giant Raggedy Andy in a tea party dream of his and sure enough, Lincoln was the one serving the tea.

“Places, everyone!” the director Kyle Dresden shouts. “Sammy Harper just fell asleep. We’re live in twenty minutes.”

We always do dreams live, while beaming them remotely into the dreamer’s brain. There is a huge screen set up at one end of the stage that shows us exactly what the dreamer is experiencing. That’s essential since dreamers rarely stick to the script, even ones they’ve helped write themselves. We always have to keep an eye on it while we’re acting.

In this scenario, I’m one of the drug dealers. I’ve got a bazooka—which is insane—but that’s Sammy Harper for you. Other drug dealers have AK-47s, elephant guns, and one has a tiger on a leash.

The blue “Dream On” light goes on and we advance towards the middle of the room. Abraham Lincoln is in front, holding the briefcase. The director signals the giant marshmallow Peeps to start jumping around in the background. The theme song to “Cheers” starts playing.

The actor playing Lincoln-as-a-drug-lord puts the briefcase on the table and opens it. The other gang leader samples the drugs inside. I look up at the dream screen and see that in the dream, the briefcase has grown wings and is flying around the room. I knew Sammy Harper couldn’t be content to just lie there as a briefcase and let everyone else have the action. The briefcase in the dream has now sprouted arms and is firing a Tommy gun at us.

This is where improv takes over. We all keep an eye on the screen to see where the briefcase is firing and when it gets near us, we fall back as if we’re shot. The customer is always right, after all.

The dream briefcase fires in my direction and I drop to the ground, writhing as if shot. I’m about to full-on die when I realize that I haven’t said my line yet. The first line of my career and the dreamer goes off script and kills me. Not this time. I let out a dying scream. “I gotta go pee!”

* * *

It’s 6am and I stumble through the door of my apartment and fall onto the bed without even undressing. I just want some nice black-screen sleep. I used to like my dreams, but now, I don’t want to remember a thing. It’s too much like work.

Source

13 Comments | tags: Abraham Lincoln, actor, crime, dreams, drugs, fiction, funny, job, quirky, science fiction, Superman | posted in Light

October 22, 2012

Begging for Trouble

By David Stewart

This story was inspired by this post by my friend Sharmishtha Basu.

Johann Bismarck was Tangiss City’s Clean and Collect agent. It’s only agent. There had once been a whole force dedicated to collecting late taxes and apprehending criminals, but now there was only Bismarck. No one else was needed. He was seven feet tall, as strong as a mech, and as fast as a laser beam. People said he could think his way out of a black hole. He was always polite and never raised his voice, and if anyone gave him a problem, he would simply raise his eyebrows in an expression that meant, “Are you looking for trouble?” Usually, no one was. Everyone called him Trouble. It was even on his badge.

It was a Monday and Trouble had a headache. It had not been a good weekend. His wife had made him go out with friends on a cruise around Venus. It was long and tedious and the other couples had talked incessantly about their kids and their hair and their kids’ pets and their kids’ pets’ hair…

He was down in the lower levels, in Block 3442—the last stop of the day. He went to the door and rang the doorbell.

“What?” a shrill voice yelled.

“I’m from the city, ma’am,” Trouble said. “You owe 80,000 krubles in taxes.

“Go to hell!” came the reply.

Trouble sighed. It had been too long a day for this. He twisted the doorknob until it broke and then pushed the door open. A thin woman in a black vinyl suit stood in front of him, holding a laser pistol. He took it and broke it in half.

“80,000 krubles, please,” Trouble said.

The woman turned pale. “Is—is cash okay?”

Trouble nodded and she scurried off, coming back with a wad of bills. She counted out the right amount and he had her sign a paper.

“I’m sorry about your door. Next time, please be more forthcoming,” he said. She nodded quickly.

He fed the money into his pocket depositer, beaming it instantly to the bank. Then he looked up to see a group of men gathering around him, looking menacing.

“How much money you got on you?” one of them said.

“Just sent it all in,” Trouble said. His head was pounding and the last thing he wanted was more work to do. He started to walk forward but the men blocked his way.

“How about those fancy gadgets? We’ll take those.” They were pointing laser pistols at him now.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked slowly. Most people were not suicidal enough to point a gun at him.

“Yeah, I know,” one said. “You’re the guy who’s going to give us those gadgets.”

So they didn’t know. Trouble groaned. “Listen guys, could we do this another day? I’m back here on Wednesday, I swear. I have the same equipment on me every day. It will be exactly like this, but it won’t be today.”

The men laughed. “You don’t get to make the decisions,” a heavy-set man with a long mustache said. “Hand it all over.”

“I’m a city official,” Trouble said. “You don’t want to do anything to me.”

“Oh, a city official, are you?” the man said. “In that case, someone will pay good money to get you back. How about you just come along with us?”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Trouble said. “Look, I’ll be back on Wednesday. I’ll take care of you then.”

“I’ll shoot you in the head right now if you don’t start moving,” the leader said.

Trouble sighed. “Fine. Let me just call my wife to let her know.” He pulled out the phone and called his wife. One of the men leaped forward to grab the phone away. Trouble reached out without looking and snapped his arm in half. The man screamed and fell back. None of the others dared to get too close after that.

“Hey dear. I have a bit of a . . . meeting here at work. I might be a bit late.”

“Late!” his wife said. “You promised me we’d go out tonight at six! I got a babysitter and everything. Whoever it is, tell them they can wait until tomorrow.”

Trouble looked around at the men pointing guns at him and looking a little uncertain. “I tried but they’re quite insistent. Hold on, let me ask again.” He cupped the phone with his hand. “Are you guys really sure you want to do this? You really want trouble?”

“It’s you who’s got the trouble,” the leader said.

“Yes, apparently,” Trouble said. He put his ear back to the phone. “They want to do this now. I’ll do my best, but there are nine of them, all with laser pistols.”

“Stop making excuses,” his wife said and hung up.

Trouble put the phone away, shaking his head. “You have no idea how much of a headache I have,” he said. Then, suddenly, he lunged forward and kicked the leader in the stomach, sending him flying fifteen feet backwards. Trouble jumped into the air as half a dozen laser beams shot at him, hitting four of their own men in the crossfire. He picked up one of the men by the head and swung him like a bat, knocking down two more. The remaining man took off running. Trouble picked a heavy manhole cover out of the street and threw it after him, knocking the man flat and pinning him to the ground.

Trouble called emergency services. “Hey, it’s me,” he said. “I got a pickup for you.”

* * *

The next day, Trouble got a call from the mayor. “What’s this I hear about you killing six men and putting three in the hospital, down in the lower levels?” the mayor asked.

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Trouble said. “They came looking for me.”

“What? Were they suicidal?”

“Apparently,” Trouble said.