Midget with a Chainsaw Page 2

  “No, sir, I apologize for my outburst, sir!” He declared loudly.

  “Holy fucking balls, man, that is one thick accent,” his superior raised an eyebrow. “What hillbilly republic are you from?”

  “Uh, Alabama, sir,” Dale cleared his throat.

  “Alabama, huh?” The midget chuckled. “As fate would have it, I know some fucking trivia about Alabama. Would you like to hear it?”

  Dale cleared his throat again, and then nodded, thinking maybe he didn’t really have a choice in the matter anyway.

  “Do you know what they call a fifteen year old Alabama girl who can run faster than her brothers?” His superior sneered up at him, and Dale shook his head. “Virgin,” came the finishing blow.

  Dale’s face flushed as red as Franks’, and he croaked a few times before any words came out. “But I… I never fucked my sister.”

  “Well then, maybe we should have recruited her because you must be a slow ass motherfucker,” the midget replied, and Dale’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. “Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me you’re the Forrest Gump kinda slow too! Goddamn, at least that goofy motherfucker could run like the wind.”

  Robinson was growing tired of this tirade quickly, and cleared his throat loudly.

  “Alright, Too Tall, you got something to say?” His superior strolled up.

  “Just wondering how someone of your stature thinks it’s wise to run his mouth like that,” Robinson said, ever the picture of a stoic soldier. “Sir.”

  The shorter man couldn’t help but me impressed by the balls on this recruit, lanky though he was. “Man, you are a bold one, Too Tall,” he said, “I wonder, would you be willing to help me demonstrate the first lesson?”

  Robinson grinned, puffing his chest out a bit. “Yes sir, I’d be happy to.”

  The midget lashed out and grabbed the large recruit’s ankle, jerking it up while kicking his own boot towards Robinson’s rear ankle. The swift movement sent him into a full split onto the concrete, and the tall man groaned in pain, flopping to the side in shock. He clutched at his crotch and rolled over to the side, and the other three recruits recoiled, fighting the urge to hold their own genitals in sympathy.

  “Lesson number one,” the midget declared, holding up a thick finger. “Don’t fuck with a strong person who has a low center of gravity. Now, let’s move on to lesson-”

  “Excuse me, Agent TnT?” A young dark skinned asked, hands clasped studiously behind his back.

  The recruits’ eyes all widened, even Robinson who was still on the floor. They’d heard of TnT. Everyone had. But from the retellings and rumors, they’d all imagined a giant guy. Not this.

  “You better have a good goddamn reason to interrupt my lesson,” TnT turned away from the crumpled recruit to look the newcomer in the face. He wore a pristine white lab coat, black slacks, and a pair of thin rimmed glasses. There was a no. 2 pencil smartly angled behind his right ear, and he looked like he’d just walked out of a stock photo shoot for male nurses.

  “I’m terribly sorry sir, but there is a call from the Boss, and he says it’s urgent,” the young man bowed slightly, and the midget nodded, appreciating the manners on this kid.

  “Very well, then,” he said, “who are you and what’s your name?”

  “Baptiste, sir, I’m your new attache,” came the reply. “Whatever you may need, equipment, research, I’m your man.” He straightened up and offered a small smile that reached his eyes.

  “Well, Baptiste,” TnT grinned. “Let me ask you then, do you know any yo momma jokes?”

  “Excuse me, sir?” The attache furrowed his brow. He couldn’t be serious?

  “It’s a simple question,” the midget replied. “You said you’re here for whatever I may need. Do you know any yo momma jokes?”

  The young man shrugged. “Yes sir, plenty.”

  “Fantastic.” TnT stepped beside him and motioned to Robinson. “You see that man there, the one clutching his recently destroyed manhood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Baptiste frowned, his own balls tightening at the sight.

  “Good,” the midget clapped him on the back. “You are to stand here and ridicule this man until I return.” The young man looked down at him incredulously, then at the moaning recruit, and back again. “Well, what are you waiting for?” TnT asked impatiently.

  “Yo momma is like a bag of chips,” Baptiste said with a shrug as he stepped over to the recruit. “She’s Free-To-Lay.”

  TnT barked a laugh. “You’re going to go far in the Agency, kid.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  TnT hopped into his office chair, swiveling it back and forth a few times before pulling against the desk to face his computer monitor.

  “What can I do for you, Boss?” The midget asked, saluting the older man on the screen. He had slicked back salt and pepper hair, and a perfectly shaped beard with not a lock out of place.

  “Sorry to pull you away from training the new recruits,” he said, soft crinkling eyes conveying his apology. “How are they doing?”

  “It’s been a painful process for one of them.” TnT shrugged with a smirk. “But I’ll mold them into something useful.”

  “That’s good to hear, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to put that on hold for the moment.” The Boss pursed his lips and folded his hands in front of him. “We have a situation.” Those were words that no Agent ever wanted to hear. They bore a weight with them that dragged even the most experienced man’s stomach to the floor.

  “What’s happening?” The midget’s lips curled into a pensive twist. Something big must have been going on if they were interrupting training. The Agency needed new recruits badly. That’s why they’d given TnT so many at once, and greener than he would have liked before getting to this point.

  “Agent Rose has been investigating mass disappearances in some small fracking towns,” the Boss said, and his face shrunk into a smaller frame as he showed a map on the screen. “There is a trio of small towns that were built around a giant dirt racing track. Over the past few weeks, several dozen people have gone missing in that area. Locals thought it was because the work dried up and people just moved on, but long time residents have also disappeared.”

  “So what’s Rose found?” TnT asked. “What are we up against?”

  “We don’t know,” the Boss replied. “The last communication we got from her was twenty-four hours ago. She missed her last two check-ins.”

  “She’s missing?” The midget was incredulous. Something definitely was going bad in those fracking towns if it got the best of Rose. She was one of the Agency’s elite. He clenched and unclenched a fist. This wasn’t good.

  “Yeah.” The Boss nodded. “And you are the closest field agent we have. It’s about a two hour chopper ride to the dirt track, which will be the drop off point. They do demolition derby events and stunt shows there, so there will be plenty of cars. Baptiste will assemble a kit for you with enough cash to acquire a ride. There are a couple of good ole boys who run the place, and from what Rose told me, they love greenbacks and are always in the market to sell.”

  “Which of the three towns should I head to first?”

  “Head north, to Struckerville,” the Boss instructed, “based on Rose’s last report there is a dive bar in the middle of town. That should be your best bet.”

  “Alright sir, I’m on it.” TnT nodded. “I’ll bring her back.”

  “Whatever you need, let me know,” the Boss promised.

  The midget saluted. “Sir.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Helicopter blades cut through the still desert air, reverberating sharply across the empty track. The shoosh, shooshshooosh was an unusual sight in such a small town, but the noise wasn’t a problem for the residents of the Blackwell’s Demolition Track.

  The chopper landed next to a giant ramp with a row of beat up muscle cars lined up behind it, swirling dust in tiny tornadoes. TnT hopped down from the side, saluting the pilot and receivin
g one in return. He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder as the aircraft lifted off again, whipping wind loudly with its ascent.

  As the chopper disappeared into the distance, TnT strode off towards the row of cars to have a look. He was a bit of a muscle car enthusiast, and was pretty excited to secure a ride here. They looked well loved, to say the least, but there was pretty much every make and model imaginable, and the Agent eyed his selection with glee and care. How to decide?

  “It’s a midget, it’s a midget!” A high pitched male voice screeched, and TnT dropped his bag, adopting a defensive stance immediately. A large man lumbered towards him, massive arms swinging back and forth like a gorilla. “Look, George, it’s a midget!”

  “Whoa, calm down there, big fella,” TnT held his hands up, palms out, eyebrows raised. What the hell was this guy’s damage?

  “Can I toss him? Please, George?” The big man stopped and hopped back and forth from foot to foot, looking like an excited kid in a candy store. He had sandy brown hair and blue eyes, the kind of all-American look that was classic on a Calvin Klein model but not so on this oaf. His glassy eyed gaze gave the impression of low intelligence, and the way the eyeballs seemed to bug out made him almost look alien.

  “The fuck?” TnT blurted. A shorter skinnier man jogged up to them, putting a calming hand on the gorilla’s shoulder. He had similar features, though a leaner stature, and a whole lot less crazy in his tired eyes.

  “Sorry Nick, he’s not like your friends at the county fair,” George said gently. “I don’t think he’d like that too much.” Nick’s lower lip quivered, and his gaze shot to the ground, shoulders slumping. “Aw, come on, Nick, it’ll be okay. Why don’t you go inside and play your game?”

  The gorilla immediately stood up and smiled brightly. “Okay! Bye, mister midget!” He waved a gargantuan hand and turned, scampering back the way he’d come.

  “What the fuck just happened?” TnT eyed George warily.

  “Sorry bud, please forgive my brother,” the thin man scratched the back of his head nervously. “I’m afraid our act has taken its toll on him.”

  “Your act?” The midget crossed his arms.

  “Yeah, we’re the Badass Blackwells,” George motioned to the boards on the far side of the track. The font looked almost like graffiti paint, and the logo was a silhouette of two guys standing in front of a muscle car. It was—TnT had to admit to himself—pretty badass.

  From the looks of it, the silhouettes were Nick and George, given the respective ape and beanpole shapes of the bodies.

  “I do all the driving,” George continued, “and my brother is the car surfer.”

  “Look man,” TnT sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know I got shit to do, but I gotta fuckin’ ask. What in god’s name is a car surfer?”

  “Well, Nick’s big move is to stand on the roof of the car as I drive around the track, like he’s surfing,” his new acquaintance explained. “Once people got bored of that, he wanted to add in a wrinkle.” He pointed to the giant ramp looming over them like a monument of insanity.

  “I’m guessing that didn’t go well?” TnT inquired hesitantly.

  “Man, it went fan-fucking-tastic!” George blurted, eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “The crowd went wild! We got four million hits on YouTube! Some of the big morning shows put it on the tee-vee!”

  The midget sighed. “I meant for Nick.”

  “Oh, Nick?” The thin man scratched his head again, having the decency to look a little ashamed. “Yeah, he got fucked up pretty good. When the car landed, the front end dug into the ground, and then launched him up like a catapult. He must have done five, six flips in the air before landing on his head. Doctors spent six hours removing the pieces of helmet from his scalp. Those helmet people gave him a sponsorship deal out of it though, so he’s happy.”

  “Christ, I miss civilization already,” TnT muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose again.

  “I didn’t catch that,” George prompted, leaning forward and cupping his ear.

  “Nothing.” The midget waved him off and then shouldered his duffel bag again, eager to get moving. “You got a car for me?”

  “Yeah, right this way,” came the reply, and George led his tiny acquaintance to the row of cars, all dented and dinged up. There were different colors of paint scratched across the surfaces from multiple collisions. “They ain’t much to look at, but they’re fast as hell, pack a lot of power, and will get you where you need to go.”

  “Did Baptiste relay my special requirements?” TnT asked, and ran his hand along the driver’s window of a dark purple GTO.

  “Yeah, he did,” George replied with a nod. “You can go ahead and pick any car you want. We have them all rigged up with hand controls for the kiddie demolition derby next weekend.”

  “Man, y’all need some cable TV in the worst possible way.” The midget ran a hand down his face in exasperation.

  “Nah, we’re outdoorsy types in these parts.” George grinned, revealing crooked yellowed teeth with more than a few spaces peppered throughout his mouth.

  TnT strolled down the row of cars, and stopped in front of a jet black ‘72 Boss 302 Mustang. He ran a finger up the hood with a ghost of a smile on his face, enjoying the mean beastly look of the machine. It looked like it was ready to spring into action, roar to life, strike fear into the cold dead hearts of his enemies.

  “Mind if I take this one?” He asked, delight dancing in his eyes.

  “You have some great taste in cars,” George commented. “The keys are in it, ready to go. Where you headed?”

  “Struckerville,” TnT replied.

  “Good deal.” The lanky man pointed across the track to the open gate. “Just head out that exit, hang a right, then straight on for a few miles. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks.” The midget reached into the duffel bag and produced a thick wad of cash, tossing it over. “Here you go.”

  “Pleasure doing business with you.” George used the stack of money to salute his tiny new friend, flashing his graveyard of a mouth once again.

  TnT opened the door and tossed in his bag, jumping into the driver’s seat with stellar grace. He fired up the car and grinned at the throaty roar of the engine. He ran his hands lovingly across the steering wheel, and grasped the paddles on either side for the gas and brake. They were crudely set up, but not the worst he’d ever used, and he punched the gas hard, spinning the wheels in a fabulous display of torque.

  The engine sucked in air like a hoover of death, thrumming beneath him, a thundering bass roiling deep in his gut. TnT smirked at the vibration in the seat; he couldn’t wait to get the lovely Agent Rose into this car.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The bar in the middle of town had a few dejected workers hanging out at a few of the tables despite it being the afternoon. TnT strolled in as if he owned the place, eyes swinging around to assess his surroundings with expert speed.

  The ‘roided up bouncer seemed like he would be the sole problem.

  “What do you want, little man?” He puffed out his chest, standing as tall as he could over TnT’s four foot frame.

  “I’m looking for a woman,” the midget replied calmly, not intimidated in the least.

  “Aw, did you lose your mommy?” The bouncer sneered, and more than a few of the card players at the far table guffawed at the joke.

  “You know, I always hate coming to these backwoods inbred cousin fucking shitburgs of civilization because everybody is just so goddamn stupid,” TnT spoke up, his stance still as relaxed as ever. “I mean come on, a little man and a mommy joke? That’s all you got? Take some pride in your insults, dig deep, think of something creative. Or hell, at the very least, take a break from cranking your steroid shrunk micro-cock to MILF porn and google some good insults.”

  The silence was deafening. Even the bartender froze, cloth in hand against the age worn wood of the counter, toothpick hanging from his lip and threatening to fall to the dusty floor.
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  “But you know, I will give this to y’all,” TnT continued, “this dumb shit bouncer is a brave motherfucker.” The onlookers were confused by this. After that whole tirade, he was complimenting his opponent?

  “Huh? Why’s he brave?” A thickly accented voice called from the back, and the midget grinned.

  “It takes a brave man to talk shit to someone at dick level,” he said simply, and then head-butted the bouncer straight in the balls. The surprised beast fell to his knees with a grunt, and TnT immediately jammed his thick fingers into his nostrils, dragging him across the floor to the table of horrified onlookers.