“Take me to the river, my great white hunter,” pleaded Yolanda, flashing her bare crotch again, grinding against Telk.
Telk introduced Yolanda to the three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss, perfected when he was but a teenager.
* * * * *
Private Telk woke up in a hospital bed. The very attentive Medic Elena Ceausescu was checking IV medications. Nurses crowded the doorway outside, kept at bay by Master Sergeant Green.
“Your injuries are mostly superficial,” advised Ceausescu. “You lost a lot of blood. How do you feel?”
“I’m in so much pain,” cried Telk. “I’m not going to die?”
“You appear stronger than I first gave you credit.”
“Your malingering days will soon be over!” interrupted Sergeant Green. “Everyone thinks you are a hero. Colonel Czerinski plans to pin a Hero of the Legion medal on you. But you don’t fool me. I saw the video of what happened before those Disney public relations assholes destroyed it. You were daydreaming again. You got off a lucky shot, probably a misfire!”
“Heroes aren’t born or made,” defended Ceausescu. “Heroes are just ordinary people who respond to extraordinary situations.”
“It all happened so fast,” explained Telk. “I don’t really know what happened.”
“Where are you from?” asked Sergeant Green, still trying to get a handle on what Telk was about.
“Collinsville, Illinois,” answered Telk, proudly. “It’s on Route 159.”
“Never heard of the place,” scoffed Sergeant Green. “Sounds like some nowhere place with one traffic light and a junkyard on the edge of town. Am I right? There’s nothing there?”
“We have the world’s largest ketchup bottle,” bragged Telk. “It’s just south of downtown.”
“World’s largest ketchup bottle? What kind of shit is that?”
“It’s on the National Register of Historic Places.”
“Are you mocking me?” Sergeant Green challenged. He turned to leave. “Don’t you ever mock me! I’ll make you wish you were never born!”
Elena Ceausescu closed the door after Sergeant Green. “You were talking in your sleep. Tell me, Randal, about the three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss. Can you really do that?”
Telk faded into unconsciousness as the medications took effect. Ceausescu cursed, promising to find out about this man of the world’s largest ketchup bottle.
* * * * *
After introducing Yolanda to the three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss, they took a taxi to Telk’s personal stingray hunting boat. Yolanda insisted that they stop at the 7-Eleven store for ice. This was normal for first-timers who had just experienced the three-hundred-ninety-six step system. Yolanda needed to cool it down. Like all women who had experienced Telk’s world-class lovemaking capabilities, Yolanda could not seem to separate herself from Telk’s thigh.
Telk’s boat was named Center Mass. He designed and built it for hunting the river demons. The Center Mass had four Detroit turbo diesels pumping awesome and uncontrollable power to four massive water jets. The Center Mass might be the most powerful and fastest jet boat in the world. Yolanda released herself from Randal’s thigh so that they could climb the ladder to board the ship.
Telk took Yolanda to the bridge and helped her into her seat. There was a pocket built into her chair to hold ice. Telk thought of everything when he designed the boat. Yolanda strapped in as Telk fired up the big diesels. The Center Mass rumbled with the power of the idling diesels. Yolanda felt like she was on board a space ship. The sound of those massive diesels set Yolanda’s juices flowing. She wanted Randal again. She moved the bag of ice to the side, turning slightly, giving Telk a clear view.
“Are you ready to fly low into the face of danger, darling?” asked Telk, revving the diesels.
Yolanda was ready for another three-hundred-ninety-six steps to bliss and didn’t give a damn about anything else. Telk knew what Yolanda wanted, and why, advancing the throttles just a hair more. The rhythm of the diesel was perfectly in tune with a woman’s sex drive. Diesels were a natural aphrodisiac. Telk pushed a button on the arm of his captain’s chair, reclining Yolanda’s chair into a bed. Telk lit a cigarette for Yolanda, and introduced her to the one-hundred-eight steps of Randal’s Big Bang Theory.
Afterward, Yolanda feared the one-hundred-eight steps of the Big Bang Theory might permanently bow her legs. She didn’t care, for she had found the man of her dreams, the only man worthy to father her children. But at the moment, she only wished for another bag of ice.
* * * * *
Private Telk woke briefly, his body covered with perspiration. Lying beside him was Medic Elena Ceausescu, snoring, her naked body snuggled close to his. What happened? Did this mean he lost his virginity while sleeping? Was that even possible? If so, it meant Telk was technically no longer a virgin. That was good news, but Telk still felt cheated. Exhausted, he was soon asleep.
Chapter 10
When Private Randal Telk was discharged from the hospital, he was met by Corporal Tonelli and privates Knight, Krueger, and Colonel Czerinski. They took Telk to the Blind Tiger to get blind drunk and celebrate still being alive after the suicide bombing attempt. Telk limped a little, but still worked up the nerve to ask a pretty girl to dance. The answer was no.
“You crashed and burned,” teased Krueger. “Ask one of the spider babes to dance. See what happens.”
“Spiders dance?” asked Telk, drinking another beer. “Are you sure?”
“Of course spiders dance. They have eight legs. They’re naturals.”
“I’ll be your wingman,” promised Joey Junior. They both approached a gaggle of spiders clustered at the bar. “My friend, Randal Telk, Hero of the Legion, is looking to date one of you lovely spider creatures.”
“That’s right,” slurred Telk. “Who wants to test my Big Bang Theory?”
Smack! Smack! Smack! Telk got smacked. Joey Junior got smacked. Krueger got smacked for getting too close. Knight got smacked for laughing. Krueger got up off the floor, swinging a chair, and got knocked out from behind by a flying bottle. Telk, now in a fighting ninja stance, got knocked out by a female spider. Knight and Joey Junior dragged Telk under a table in the corner as the rest of the tavern broke out in scattered fights. Bouncers moved in with batons to thump drunks and legionnaires for sport. Out like a light, Telk began dreaming.
* * * * *
Randal Telk was the only non-Japanese ninja in the world. Having mastered the art of ninjutsu at the young age of only twelve, Telk was exceptional. He had saved the Grand Master’s life from rogue assassins when he was only thirteen. Randal would be the first white grand master ever, the greatest ninja in history. His legendary battle-proven skills were known and respected by his peers. All who knew his reputation feared facing the fierce warrior and deadly assassin.
Telk was walking home when movement caught his eye. He knew that he was being stalked, just as a great cat knows when it is being hunted. The greatest assassin ever, Randal knew he had made enemies. It came with the territory. What surprised Telk was his enemies were fellow ninjas. It was almost unheard of that one ninja would attack another. It sometimes happened, as it did with his Grand Master, but was very rare. Telk sighed in disappointment. If they wanted a fight, they would get one.
These assassins were dark ninjas. Randal could smell their vile scent, a mild hint of incense Telk had smelled only once before, the night his Grand Master had been attacked. At least ten ninjas hid in the shadows, four above, running the rooftops, four behind, and two in front. Telk was boxed in, or so they thought. The dark ninjas’ actions forever stole Telk’s belief in the brotherhood. The fact that they had returned for him only served to fuel his desire to punish them.
Two dark ninjas in front made the first move, boldly attacking Telk with throwing stars dipped in cobra venom. Randal could smell the venom as the stars sailed through the air. Ah, they also used green adder venom. Telk nodded his head in a
pproval, easily blocking the stars with a trash can lid.
Telk assumed the stars were most likely a diversion. His assumption was proven correct as an attacker from the rooftop launched himself. Telk easily sidestepped the clumsy flying kick of his attacker and left the assailant with a broken neck from a perfectly timed back kick, delivered almost as an afterthought.
Telk was feeling the battle rage surge through his soul. He was made for battle and lived to deal death to villains. These dark ninjas had crossed the line, not once, but twice, and this time Telk was not a mere thirteen-year-old boy. Telk was never unarmed, and these dark ninja were about to discover why Randal Telk was the most feared assassin in the world.
Telk spun to his left, his wrist snapping outward with a crack of a bullwhip. A dime flew at the speed of a bullet, straight and true, burying itself into the skull of a would-be assassin and dropping the fool without a sound. Spare change?
Telk drew a credit card in each hand as he engaged two more ninjas in hand-to-hand combat. Within seconds, both ninjas were down from the many mortal wounds inflicted by Master Card and VISA. Telk, known as the Great White Tiger among his fellow ninjas, never used American Express.
Telk killed three more ninjas in a matter of seconds. The dark ninjas realized Telk’s skills were vastly superior to their own, but how to retreat from the confrontation? Finally an unworthy coward ninja made the decision for the rest. He simply ran away. They all ran, choosing different directions. Surely Telk could not follow them all.
Seizing the throwing stars embedded in the trash can lid, Telk threw all four stars in the blink of an eye. Four ninjas fell. Telk knew none of the ninjas would reveal their lair, but he would hunt them down until all the dark ninjas were destroyed. Using a throwing dart, Telk merely wounded that last fleeing ninja, permanently marking the scoundrel. Telk would know his attacker by his very unique scar.
No other assassins remained, yet Telk sensed he was still being watched and still in danger. This hunter was good. Closing his eyes, Telk let his mind travel outside his body, searching for the wrath of the assassin. This was a skill few were able to practice, but Telk was a master. Slowly he zeroed in. His stalker was a woman.
“Come out and face me, or die the inferior coward that you are!” shouted Telk.
“The great Randal Telk, the Great White Tiger of Japan,” sneered the ninja, stepping out from the shadows. “Ha! I see a scared little boy.”
The woman’s voice and laugh sounded familiar, but Telk struggled to place it. When he saw her walk, Telk knew they had met before. She walked bow-legged as if riding a horse, the telltale sign of Randal’s Big Bang Theory. Telk had more than just known her, he had bedded this rogue ninja at some point in time. Telk laughed. “I see a bow-legged pus-filled harpy. I smelled you, but was confused. I thought that perhaps someone had killed a cat and left it in the sun too long.”
The woman hissed at the mention of her bowed legs. “You did this to me Telk, and I will make you pay!”
“I don’t remember. You must have been unusually boring in bed. That would explain why I never phoned,” explained Telk, provoking the rogue ninja. No woman ninja ever wants to hear that she was boring in bed.
“You die, Telk, for never calling me back!” The harpy launched herself at Telk in a flying horse stance. Her hips were permanently locked in that position. Of course Telk could unlock them if he so desired, but this rogue needed to pay for her sins. As she flew at Telk, he saw her face. Yolanda! Telk had several lovers named Yolanda, but this one was special.
Telk had loved Yolanda, but she had gone missing. They had pledged to marry. Startled, Telk nearly allowed Yolanda to hit with a knife-hand strike. He stepped out of range at the last second as Yolanda landed with a screech. She was far from defenseless. Telk trained with Yolanda for many years growing up. In fact, it was Yolanda who helped Telk develop his early three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss.
“Yolanda stop. I can help get your legs back together. It is a simple chiropractic procedure.”
A swift kick in the ass, and Yolanda would be back to normal. Telk was amazed she had suffered all these years for nothing. It saddened Telk, even if she was the enemy, a member of the dreaded Dark Ninjas.
If Yolanda wanted her legs fixed, she hid it well. Seemingly out of nowhere, she produced a blowgun, rapid-firing darts of death. A master ninja, Telk was able to avoid the darts but risked much toying with this woman. She was dangerous. Spinning to Yolanda’s right, Telk was behind her fast, his crotch firmly pressed to hers. Telk felt Yolanda’s resistance fading. No woman could resist the great Randal Telk.
“Let me help you,” he whispered soothingly in her ear.
“Fine, but after we make love, I will kill you. You are a pig, and I hate you.”
Telk knew victory was his. “First let me unlock your hips.” Telk applied pressure to her neck, then stepped back and kicked her in the ass, unlocking her hips.
Yolanda gasped in pleasure. “I never knew that a kick in the ass could feel so good! For the first time in years, I can walk normally. I yearn once again for the one-hundred-eight steps of the Big Bang Theory!”
Telk spun Yolanda around, holding her in his arms. Without warning, he head-butted her, knocking her out. She was rogue and unworthy, at least for the moment. He carried her back to his house where he could interrogate her in private.
Once inside his house. Telk took Yolanda to his bedroom, dropping her on the bed.
Yolanda woke, very happy to be in Telk’s bed again. “It has been many years since a man used the three-hundred-ninety-six steps on me. I’ve missed it.”
Telk bowed politely, accepting her praise.
“You are my sworn enemy, but also the sexiest man on the planet,” she admitted. It was obvious she secretly hoped he might kick her again.
“Who sent you?” asked Telk. He knew what Yolanda wanted, what she needed, the poor girl. “Tell me all, or we won’t make love.”
“You want to know, but you won’t like it,” hissed Yolanda, angrily. “Before I tell, I want your word that we will make love. That includes the all three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss, and the one-hundred-eight steps of Randal’s Big Bang Theory.”
“Sure baby, no problem. Just tell me everything, and I will deliver. I always deliver. You know that.”
Giddy with excitement, Yolanda told all, even making up some serious shit to make it sound even better. She was giddy with anticipation. Telk’s mere presence made her legs quiver. Yolanda needed Telk.
Telk was about to deliver when more evil ninjas burst through the front door and windows. A ninja even came out of the closet. Ninjas don’t ask, don’t tell. It had all been a setup. No matter. Telk would kill them all. Telk knocked the lead ninja backwards into the others. Telk roared as he waded into them., leading with a devastating front kick, instantly killing two ninjas at once. These ninjas were facing the greatest killing machine on the planet.
Telk could smell the fear of these so-called assassins. They knew they were as good as dead, and nothing could change that. Telk unleashed a volley of throwing stars, killing six more ninjas. Yolanda guarded his back. Her newly freed hips allowed her to perform a perfect jump-spinning crescent kick to the side of a large ninja’s head, killing him instantly. Yolanda might hate Telk, but she loved his Big Bang Theory more.
Telk sensed the presence of the Grand Master, the man he once revered as a father. The old man walked into the room. The dark ninjas bowed to the old man.
“Why do you set me up for death, my master?” Telk asked.
“My young grasshopper apprentice, you have forgotten your place. I am the Grand Master. I am the most powerful ninja in the world, not you. You are nothing but a white slug I found in the streets, licking trashcans. You were no higher than a stray dog. I gave you the gift of the ninja, and you repay me with arrogance.”
The Grand Master launched his attack. Telk easily fended off the attack, disappointed in the old man’s clumsy a
pproach. Telk caught the old man’s wrist. The sound of breaking bones was sickening.
* * * * *
“Get out from under there, you little piss ant!” shouted Master Sergeant Green, peering under the table. “You’re going back to the barracks to clean up so you’ll be presentable for your medal in the morning!”
“Yes, Master Sergeant Green.”
“Daydreaming again, Telk?”
“Yes, sergeant.”
Chapter 11
Master Sergeant Green informed me that Randal Telk, our newest Hero of the Legion, may have a few issues. Last night, Telk was out brawling, drunk and disorderly at the Blind Tiger Tavern. I do not see that as a problem. Legionnaires will be legionnaires. After all, the man fought off a terrorist attack, saved my son, and got laid up in the hospital, all in one day.
I watched Private Telk as the battalion formed up. Telk was a good-looking kid, though a bit pale and blotchy. I couldn’t say I approved of his hanging out with Privates Krueger or Knight, but Joey Junior probably was not so good an influence on the young man either.
Sergeant Green mentioned Telk’s daydreams. As I looked at him, I could see it. He was daydreaming right now, kind of swaying back and forth in the breeze. Daydreaming was a serious habit Telk would have to break if he hoped to survive the New Gobi Desert. The desert is harsh to those that don’t pay her proper attention. For now, I decided to give Telk a pass.
“Attention!” ordered Master Sergeant Green.
Major Lopez and I walked down the ranks, giving out medals. When we stopped at Private Telk to present his Hero of the Legion and Purple Heart award, the man still daydreamed. Major Lopez slapped Telk with his cap.
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