CCC&S: The Continuing Story – 2/5

The woman with the Rose Tattoo flew out of Trauma’s arms into that of The Vindicator, to which the Woman With the Rose Tattoo said “oooh!” and to which The Vindicator replied “Groovy!” to which the semi-conscious Trauma replied “Hey…thazz my line!”

The Vindicator wiped out his blindfold, put it on the Woman With the Rose Tattoo. The Amazons stopped, dropped their spears in amazement that this ‘man’ had made a woman disappear! “Magic!” some shouted, “Devil!” another shouted. The Amazon’s reached for their spears at the thought that the ‘Devil’ was in their midst! Calmly Vindicator pulled out his handy-dandy Pez Dispenser™ and let fly a Pizza Flavoured Pez, right into the screaming mouth of the leader, who immediately shut up. Stunned, she ran her tongue over the pizza-flavoured Pez. Then her eyes open wide! The prophecy has come true! In her own tongue she shouted:

“Wallam balla, klinga, Moo Pizza!!”

Which roughly translated to “It’s the Pizza Pez man! Our Goddess’ consort, come to breed with only the chosen of our tribe! We must prepare a feast and games to prove our worth to breed with this man!!! Take the other man, cook him and stuff him with kumquats and rice!”

Vindicator stated” The woman is to be my personal slave! Let the feast begin!!!”

[writer - DRAGON!!! Boy did I start something! <G>]

“Lets lock him in the full capacity tool shed.” Was the big Amazon’s suggestion. “Yeah, what could he POSSIBLY do in there?” Was the reply of the second guard escorting him to the shed. Tossing him in and locking the padlock they walked away laughing and in anticipation of a meal.

Inside the shed Trauma looked around. There was everything everyone ever lost in here. He avoided the back corner where a mountain of lost left socks were piled. “I have to get out of here.” he thought out loud (in that big white bubble above his head) Its time to get to work I only have a few minutes before they come back for me.” With that he pulled from his pocket a Swiss army knife and from out of nowhere this cool theme song began playing.

Looking around outside, the Amazons couldn’t figure out where the music was coming from either.

Suddenly, the traitorous Vindicator yelled. “It’s the McGyver theme! Quick! To the shed or we’re all doomed!” A mad rush of huge women with their tits bouncing thundered over the roar of the engine revving in the shed. (Where they also stored the Cadillac Eldorado) SMASH! The shed door exploded in a flurry of slivers and out came roaring a modified 1967 Cadillac Eldorado. Hot Pink! With whale skin hubcaps and all leather cow interior and big brown baby seal eyes for headlights!

The breakout was a success! Passing through the crowd of Amazons, shredding them with whirling garden utensil Trauma pulled down the goggles of his 1917 leather flying helmet and tossed the white scarf over his shoulder. Driving away he screamed out his final words while shaking his fist menacingly behind him. “You haven’t seen the last of me!” With that he disappeared over the hill and soon faded into the horizon…

[writer - TRAUMA - Phew! That was close...thank good for 6 seasons of MacGyver!]

And so, The Vindicator was stranded… He had not really wanted the Amazons to eat his friend (unless he specifically asked for such a favour)… Locking him in the shed was his plan to keep Trauma alive. And so, now he didn’t have just the Amazons to contend with, but he had to convince Trauma that he hadn’t betrayed him.

But for now he would have to take some time to think, which is a difficult thing to do when surrounded by several hundred topless Amazons.

The first thing that had to be done was to get back to the continuity of the story that Dragon utterly destroyed by giving The Vindicator a Pez dispenser. So The Vindicator threw it into the bushes… er, the trees, I mean.

Second, some means of escape… The Vindicator looked in his Bag o’ Goodies to see what he could come up with… There were several dirty magazines, some Binaca, his Peril-Sensitive shades, a towel, and inflatable helicopter, a pack of gum, a… wait a sec! “I think I may have found something useful!”, said The Vindicator…

He pulled out the Binaca and freshened up his breath.

“I still feel the same.” he said.

“Looks like we’re stuck after all. Maybe someone will rescue us.”

The woman with the rose tattoo looked upset.

The Vindicator sensed that something was bothering her. “Is something bothering you?”, he asked in a semi-sincere fashion.

“I’m afraid.” she said.

“Wanna fuck?”

[writer - The Vindicator]

In the morning he looked at her as she slept on the makeshift bamboo mattress. Propping his hand under his head he watched her for a long time, under the shafts of morning sunlight slicing through the cracks in the hut. After a long time he rolled over sat on the edge of the mattress, took a deep breath and said… “She was right, I don’t respect her.”

Trauma sat on the hillside overlooking the village, he had to save his friend Vindicator was the clutches of those big tittied Amazons. And once that was done, they would seek out and hunt down the evil mastermind behind all this weirdness… Dragon. Vindicator with a Pez dispenser… HA! Puh-leezze.

Suddenly a plan hit him, knocking him back over the convertible’s backseat and sliding down the trunk where he landed on his head on the ground. “I have a cunning plan.” he said to himself….

[writer - TRAUMA - To be continued...]

…. Back at the Amazon tribe, The Vindicator was pondering how he was going to get out of the camp unnoticed. He was pacing back and forth when he suddenly tripped on his gym bag. It was at this point that an idea suddenly sprang to his mind and he was so surprised that he entirely forgot to hit the ground, and so, didn’t. He was hovering above the ground a mere 2 inches. He decided that this was not at all a respectable altitude and began, slowly, to ascend. He was now several feet up (very close to the ceiling actually) and he called to the woman with the rose tattoo…

“Pssst!”

Silence.

“Pssssssst!”

More silence.

“HEY!”

The w.w.t.r.t. started and sleepily rubbed her eyes (having no balls to scratch) and looked for The Vindicator. He was gone.

“Hey!”, he said again.

She looked up and immediately passed out.

He decided that she was dead weight, so he swooped to get his gym bag and crashed through the ceiling.

It was then that Trauma, the Cadillac and a large cloud of dust entered the camp. Trauma did indeed have a cunning plan. The best escape plan ever devised by man. Unfortunately, a large portion of the plan was dependent on The Vindicator’s proximity to the ground. His current defiance of gravity would not do. Not wanting to seem the fool, Trauma shot him down with a Pez….

[writer - The Vindicator]

… swinging around, the Cadillac kicked up huge clouds of dust obscuring the Amazon’s view. Vindicator landed in the back seat, and the gym bag on top of him.

“Where’s the w.w.t.r.t?” Trauma asked.

“Couldn’t get her and the gym bag.” answered Vindicator.

After a moments silence, Trauma spoke up, “Didn’t respect her this morning, huh?”

“Nope.” was the solemn reply.

Peeling out of the village they drove through the scrub and rough until finally the miles of dirt, dust and rock ended in a narrow stretch of blacktop. Stopping for a moment they tried to decide where they were gonna go.

“South. To Mexico.” Trauma initiated, “Or… North. To Colorado?”

Vindicator finished.

“North… lets rob a bank and then head south to Mexico.” Trauma said.

“Ok.” was the eager reply.

Twenty miles up the desert highway, they saw a man with a goatee, a backpack and a cardboard sign saying, “Ohio or bust”.

“Need a ride?” Asked Vindicator.

“Where ya headed?” Asked Dragon.

“Colorado. We’re bank robbers you know.” smiled Trauma. Vindicator elbowed him harshly in the ribs and muttered under his breath, “Stupid. Don’t have to tell everyone you know.”

“Oh… don’t worry about me.” Dragon interjected, “I was conveniently placed here so I could join you in the story.”

Another long pause, “Okay then, lets go” Vindicator shrugged.

[writer - TRAUMA - Groovy.]

“Blade’s the name.” said the new arrival to the group. “Do you mind if we hit a few convenient seven eleven’s.” With this remark he pulled out a detailed map of all the Seven Eleven’s along the way. “You didn’t happen to see my sister did you? She’s got a rose tattoo.”…

Hopefully to be continued or cancelled.

[writer - Blade]

Driving at a steady 75 miles per hour (since we are in the States), Trauma leaned back with his mirrored sunglasses and Harley Davidson headband as the wind rushed through his hair. The sound of George Thorogood blasting “Born to be Wild” from the single remaining speaker brought a carefree smile to his face. His eyes closed and hands propped behind his head with his feet on the dash…

“Hey stupid!” Vindicator yelled, startling Trauma from his daydream.

“You’re driving.” With that he cuffed him on the back of the head.

Turning back to the map… Dragon, Vindicator and Blade searched for their first target…. a convenience store in the East Indian district of Colorado, given the name “Little India”.

[writer - TRAUMA - Ooooo this should be funny... eh Vind?]

As they bedraggled group of would-be thieves ambled up the embankment above the town in an equally bedraggled car, they noticed something about the town, which was altogether too weird to be ignored, and so, they didn’t try. Cows. There were cows scattered all around the road. As they entered the town 6 million turbans ran up to the car carrying chickens, carpets, mangos and some really hot mutton curry.

They managed to get by the swarm of swami’s and parked outside of the only convenience store for miles. Behind the counter sat yet another odd sight. An American, who could actually speak english!

This was too much to handle and when they saw that the slurpie machine was working, Trauma’s jaw hit the floor.

“Gimme the cash, now!” yelled The Vindicator and threw his gymbag to the irony behind the counter.

“Dragon, help Trauma. Blade! Get me some Twinkies and a porno mag!”

Before they left the store, Trauma grabbed a T-Shirt for his dad… It said “My son robbed a convenience store in little India after carving a path through a swarm of Indian peddlers and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt!”

[writer - The Vindicator - A who needs ya!]