“Yo mama is so fat she went to KFC to get a bucket of chicken they asked her what size and she said the one on the roof.” he said.
There was a chorus of laughter from the Brixton Hoods and a singular snort from with the ranks of the Peckham Boys. The youth in the cap turned to look at his own crew and honed in on the lone figure that had an embarrassed smirk plastered across his face.
“What-chu laughing at, Morris?” he snapped.
“Sorry, Daryl.” he said with his smile instantly vanishing.
“Bitch is embarrassing me.” muttered Daryl adjusting his cap in irritation before turning back to Jamal.
“Bring it on.” said Jamal cockily.
Daryl hawked and spat onto the ground before staring intently into the eyes of the hooded youth.
“Yo mama so fat she goes to KFC and licks other peoples fingers.” he replied.
There was some scattered applause and Daryl nodded his head in appreciation.
“Well, yo mama so fat that she dont need the internet, she's already world-wide."
"Yo Mama so fat that when she wears a Orange tracksuit and walks up the hill, people think the sun is rising."
"Yo mama so fat she wears neck deodorant."
"Yo mama so fat her blood type is Nutella."
"Yo momma so fat her idea of dieting is deleting the cookies from the internet browser."
"Yo mama so fat she jumped in the air and got stuck."
"Yo mama so fat that when whe was born, she gave the hospital stretch marks."
"Yo mama so fat people jog around her for exercise."
"Yo momma so fat her cereal bowl comes with a life guard."
"Yo mama so fat she puts mayonnaise on Paracetamol."
"Yo momma so fat she made Jabba the Hut go daaammmnnn,"
"Yo mama so fat she pulls her pants down and her ass is still in them."
"Yo mama so fat the shadow of her ass weighs a hundred pounds."
"Yo mama so fat when she walks past the television you miss three episodes."
"Enough!" shouted Daryl raising his hands. "The only way we iz gunna' sort this out is by spillin' some blood, plus I can't think of any more mama insults."
"Fine by me." snarled Jamal reaching into his hoodie and pulled out a gleaming sharp knife. "Iz you ready for this, crew?"
"Stick that sonovabitch, Jamal." yelled a woman at the back.
"Thanks mama."
The two rival gangs hefted their weapons and tensed ready for a blood battle at the corner of the newsagents when suddenly a man in a black suit ran across the street placing himself between the two opposing gangs.
"Wait!" he shouted staring at each gang leader.
"Who dis punk ass lil white boy?" growled Daryl poised with his fist raised and brass knuckle dusters aimed at Jamal.
"Are you sum kinda' lawyer or sum tin, white boy?" asked Jamal brandishing the blade menacingly.
"Just please hold the open hostility to each other," said the man raising his voice as loud as he could. "My name is Agent One and the man stood looking disinterested on the other side of the road is my colleague, Mocker the Snidekick."
The gang members all swiveled to look at a young man leant casually against a lamppost across the main road. He was wearing a tight spandex red outfit with an 'M' on the chest and a long red cape.
When he saw them looking he raised his middle finger and held it there for an exorbitant length of time.
" Are you trippin? Did that punk jus do what I fink he did?" asked Jamal frowning.
"It would appear that he did," said Agent One through gritted teeth. "Just no-one kill each other just yet while I go have a quick word with my colleague, okay?"
The agent skipped across the main road and stood before Mocker the Snidekick with his eyebrows raised.
"Just a minor observation, Robert," snapped Agent One with a forced smile on his lips. "In a highly volatile situation such as this, in an atmosphere of intimidation, do you think it's wise to antagonize the gang of violent thugs all with various forms of weaponry?"
"Suppose so." grumbled Mocker the Snidekick lowering his hand reluctantly.
"This situation needs to be handled carefully and delicately, do you understand?"
"Carefully and delicately." replied Mocker.
"That's right."
"Like how you would handle a butterfly?"
"Yes, as gently as that."
"Like a butterfly holding a deadly shank ready to kill and maim?"
"Slightly going off-topic there Robert, now come over to the other side of the road with me and let's deal with this situation."
Nodding his head and sighing theatrically, Mocker pushed himself off the lamppost and they strolled over to the two rival gangs who were still staring at them in puzzlement.
"Apologies ladies and gentlemen," said Agent One. "We're just doing a little bit of field training. My name is Agent One, my colleague is Mocker the Snidekick and we represent S.H.I.T which is an organization dedicated to ridding crime from the streets of London."
"Fool, I'm running these streets!" snapped Daryl.
"Technically it's the London Assembly which is the elected watchdog for the capital made up of twenty five assembly members, but don’t let that little fact stop you."
"Man, you tryin to clown on me?"
"Not at all young man, we're down and hip with turf wars and youth gang culture, aren’t we Mocker?"
"You're darn tootin'." replied Mocker smiling.
"Lose the street lingo." hissed Agent One.
"Why is this cracker cheezin so big?" asked Jamal pointing at the superhero.
"Lose the mocking smile." hissed Agent One.
"Look brah, you need to check yo homeboy b'fore I check him!"
Mocker turned to look at the agent then back towards Jamal.
"Do people really talk like that?" asked Mocker politely.
"Oh, boy keep talkin' coz I iz ready to shank your white ass."
"Mocker, please stop mocking the knife-wielding hooded young man. We need to diffuse the situation. Soothe and calm, soothe and calm. Plus you know this will be reflected poorly in my statistics back at HQ you see."
"But I can see his lips moving but I can't understand the noises." moaned Mocker.
"Let me ax you somtin!" yelled Jamal. "Why iz you dressed like a fool?"
"So says the ghetto thug wearing the baggy jeans and over-sized hoodie."
"Man, this clown's gunna get smoked."
"Easy, easy, easy," said Agent One interrupting. "All we're here to do is help and see if we can come to some sort of peaceful resolution here. Tell me, I know each gang claims allegiance to a certain geographic location, so whose territory are we on?"
"This iz our turf and no-one touches our turf without our permission." said Jamal glaring at Daryl.
"Fool, this is our turf now. Yo mama gave it to me over breakfast." retorted Daryl smirking.
"I'll pop a cap in his ass." yelled Jamal angrily.
"Pop a cap? What does that mean exactly?" asked Mocker mystified.
"It means he gunna shoot his sorry ass." yelled a woman from the back.
"Ain't dat right, mama." said Jamal nodding his head.
"What? wait…you’re a woman?" asked Mocker peering at the back.
"That's my mama so don't get all up in her grill unless you want her to put a cap in your ass."
"I think I'm getting to the root of the problem," remarked Agent One tapping his chin thoughtfully. "There seems to be a lot of references to one’s mother. Now I'm sure it hurts terribly when we insult one's mother publically, but they're only words boys and girls. Can't we just all get along?"
"He called my mama fat." snapped Jamal pointing at Daryl with the knife.
"She sat on my iPhone and turned it into an iPad." retorted Daryl innocently.
"I heard enough of diz." shouted a woman's voice from the back.
Suddenly a hugely obese woman began pushing herself through the crowd of Brixton Hoods. She wa
ddled a few steps breathing heavily then paused to stop and rest before moving again towards the front.
Mocker stared at her thighs rubbing together with a grimace on his face then leaned over to the agent.
"Good lord, I've seen tectonic plates move faster." he whispered in awe.
She finally stood next to Jamal with sweat streaming from her corpulent face while holding a large bag of crisps in one hand and a broken piece of glass with a wrapped towel in the other.
"Does my mama look fat to you?" asked Jamal.
"Don't answer that." said Agent One quickly.
"I can't help myself." replied Mocker. "It's my superpowers."
"Don’t say it."
"But the words are coming out."
"Don’t!" Agent One warned forcefully.
"So…is my mama fat?" asked Jamal again.
"About average." replied Agent One.
Mocker snorted as all eyes looked at him.
"Some tin to say about my mama, punk ass white boy?"
"Yes, I have some general observations really. The back of her neck looks like a pack of hotdogs, and can I ask what her belt size is? Is it equator?"
There were gasps of shock from both rival gangs and the woman's mouth dropped open.
"That was a mistake." said Agent One sighing.
"Did you just say steak?" asked the fat woman licking her lips.
"I bet her belly button must make an echo and just look at her hairy armpits, it's like she's got King Kong in a headlock." said Mocker pointing.
"Are you gunna let this fool diss your mama like dat?" asked Daryl turning to Jamal.
"I iz gunna kick his ass." growled Jamal hefting the knife.
"We'll help you." offered the leader of the Peckham Boys.
"At least some good has come of this," said Agent One. "We've someone united the two rival gangs. Now I suggest we do something else."
"What's that?"
"Run!"
14.
S.H.I.T headquarters (The praise 2)
“Right then, are you ready?” asked Agent One looking confident again.
“Yes,” replied Agent Two holding out his fist.
“One…,”
“Two..,”
“Three,” said Agent One.
Agent Two stared down at his scissor sign and then at Agent One who was holding out his rock with a triumphant grin on his face.
"You're too predictable."
"It's just luck." moaned Agent Two.
"No, it's a game of strategy, observation and intelligence. See you have a consistent throwing pattern and have a tendency to throw rock on your first hand. You then want to be unpredictable and choose the same hand again on the next throw because you think I wouldn’t think you'd think of that. That's called a two-rock run. But then I know your next move after that will definitely be scissors or paper because you don’t want to be seen as too predictable and no-one goes for a three-rock run. Then it's just a case of watching your hand to see which one you'll pick. When you choose paper your fingers are usually loose before the throw and when you pick scissors only your top two fingers are loose. Read your opponent, know their pattern and watch their hand."
"Best three out of five again?" asked Agent Two hopefully.
"I'm a winner but I'm not reckless, agent."
"Teach me your ways, Rock-Paper-Scissors Master." he begged.
"One day you too could achieve greatness but not today, today you must accept your destiny." said Agent One looking down at the door handle.
"Agents!" roared the voice of the General from beyond the door. "I know I shouted you to get in my office because I was there when I shouted it. Now you two worthless, lazy, stupid asswipes get in this office before I really lose my composure."
Muttering under his breath Agent Two took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside followed by Agent One.
"Sorry about that, boys," said the General cheerfully. "I seem to get angry unexpectedly, without really understanding why."
Both agents stood there unblinking at the General who was stood in the centre of the room wearing nothing but disposable paper underpants.
"Is something wrong, agents? Never seen a man wearing paper pants before?"
"In all honesty, no sir." said Agent One.
"What about you Agent Two? Do you feel uncomfortable?"
"Remarkably so, sir."
"That's too bad because I need two volunteers and your names just happened to spring to mind."
"To do what, sir?" asked Agent One swallowing hard and taking a step back.
"My all-over spray tan!" replied the General happily. "Is there a problem, agents?"
Agent One opened his mouth but no sound would come out and he closed it with an audible click.
"You Agent Two, are you feeling okay? You're swaying on the balls of your feet a little."
"Apologies sir, I just vomited a little in my mouth."
"You need an iron stomach in this business agent, so keep it down. Now the equipment is on the table behind me. Agent One you spray and Agent Two if you see any runs just rub it in for me to even out any imperfections. I just exfoliated last night so it should go on nice and even, but I do have some dry skin areas on my elbows so you know."
"Is this necessary, sir?" asked Agent One weakly.
"Of course, how else would I get a nice natural healthy glow and be the envy of all my subordinates. Well, what are you waiting for agents?"
The General stood with legs apart and held his arms and hands out from his body as the two agents shuffled over to his desk to the spray tan equipment.
With a haunted expression on his face Agent Two picked up a pair of latex gloves and slipped them on as Agent One gingerly stared at the spray gun.
"Don’t forget the hairnet." barked the General.
With a shudder Agent Two selected the hairnet and gently tucked it onto the General's head over his thinning black hair.
"Have you lost the use of your hands, agent?" snapped the General looking around to Agent One.
"No sir, just familiarizing myself with the equipment."
"Well get to it agent, a man of my importance can't be stood around half-naked all day."
Agent One lifted the spray gun and aimed it towards the General with a grimace twisted on his face.
"Hold the airbrush about ten inches away. Spray in overlapping circles and don’t make it blotchy," warned the General. "If it glistens you're putting too much on."
"Sir."
With utmost care Agent One began spraying the General, starting from the top of his back going all the way across and down.
"Turn to the side sir, and look straight ahead." said the agent in almost a whimper.
The General did as he was told and the agent sprayed from the face to the shoulders and down the arm in slow careful circles.
"Turn to an angle and facing me, sir."
"Getting the hang of it now, aren’t you agent?"
"Sir."
Closing his eyes for a moment Agent One dropped to his haunches and sprayed down the entire length of one leg and then the other.
"Hold on, I have identified a run!" remarked Agent Two moving quickly to rub in the tan. "There you go."
"Excellent teamwork, agents."
"Please let it end!"
"What was that Agent One?"
"I said we're nearly at the end."
Finally the agent stood up and placed the spray gun quickly back on the desk as the General looked down at his lower torso then at his arms.
"Hmmm…not bad, have you done this before agent?"
"No sir, I have never spray tanned a short naked man wearing paper underpants before. It's an experience that I am sure will never leave me no matter how many times I try and forget it."
"Looks very natural, sir." commented Agent Two in appreciation.
"Why thank you, agent. Got to allow the solution to dry for ten minutes or so but it does look rather good doesn’t it? Well you two are turnin
g into quite the crime-fighting pair aren’t you? Crime in London is still falling with fewer robberies, drug operations and violent offences according to the latest figures released today which proves what we're doing is working. Without agents like you two patrolling London representing S.H.I.T, I dread to think what the streets would look like, so I commend you for that. I heard about the car theft ring you smashed Agent Two, very impressive work."
"Thank you sir," replied the agent peeling off the latex gloves. "Did the owner get his car back safely after the operation?"
"The insurance company paid out a claim because the vehicle was stolen. We have decided to repossess the Bugatti Veyron and use as a bait car for our next sting operation, sort of like a honey trap."
"Can we do that, sir?"
"Of course we can, I am now the legal owner of the vehicle and any use of the car has to be fully authorized by me."
"Can we use it, sir?" asked Agent Two suddenly brightening up.
"Not while I have breath left in my body, agent. I also took a call from Boris Johnson this morning. He wants to know if there's anything we can do about the pigeon population on Trafalgar Square. Can you get Birdman onto something like that Agent One, and maybe get him to lead them away like the The Pied Piper of Hamelin?"
"Get right on it, sir."
"Good man. I'm also hearing reports of an interesting development out on the streets. Two rival gangs, the Brixton hoods and the Peckham Boys have merged into one and they call themselves the Brixton Boys. They say they are waging a gang war against people wearing suits and costumes. Strange, but it could cause us some issues so keep a close eye on that one. But we still have much work to do agents so get back out there and do what you do best."
"Sir." they said in unison.
"I do like these little chats we have, agents." said the General smiling affectionately.
"Is there anymore planned anytime soon?" asked Agent One.
"Yes. Now what are you waiting for? Get the hell out of my office!"
Turning the agents shuffled slowly from the office with their shoulders hunched. As soon as they were out in the corridor Agent One turned to Agent Two.
"Never, ever, ever talk of this day."
"To anyone." Agent Two whispered.
15.
The flasher, the superhero and the hindsight kid
Society of Heroes with Indeterminate Talent Page 9
