Galactic Disney

by Walter Knight

  Camouflaged by ice, four polar bears, three males and a female, confronted Telk, intent on an easy meal. The lead bear faced Telk head-on as the other bears flanked. Polar bears hunting in a pack was a bad sign, but Telk knew how this was going to end. Telk lit a cigarette, blowing smoke out his nose. “Bring it on, stupid bears!”

  The leader of the pack charged Telk. Being a Grand Master in bear-style Kung Fu, Telk was prepared, jumping high into the air to deliver an ax kick down on the bear’s exposed neck. With a sickening crunch, the hapless bear’s neck snapped like a twig.

  From the left, Telk deflected the deadly swipe of another bear, trapping its paw in a painful goose neck Z-bar hold, then knocking the furry behemoth out with a forearm uppercut to the chin. Bears can be such pussies.

  A third polar bear attempted to run away, but Telk would have none of that. Those bears wanted to rumble, and by God they were going to get their money’s worth. Telk grabbed the bear by its tail and dragged it back into the mix. He kicked the bear in the ass several times to remind it why Randal Telk was ‘the man’ on ice. Telk grabbed a penguin and shoved it up the bear’s ass, feet first. Whimpering in pain, the bear ran off, the penguin’s head sticking out it’s ass, looking about and squawking with each step like there was no tomorrow, which there probably wasn’t.

  “Do you want some of this?” asked Telk, holding up his fists of fury. “Or are you going to be a good bear?”

  The bear crawled on her belly to lick Telk’s boots. Telk rewarded the sow with a scratch behind the ears. She arched her back, then rubbed her flanks on Telk’s thigh. Telk had made an impression. This polar bear was in love. And why not? Adoring submission was the natural reaction of females of all species when in the presence of Randal Telk. His stud manliness was overwhelming.

  “I’ll name you Yolanda,” announced Telk as he mounted the polar bear and urged her on with a kick for a ride across the ice pack. Yolanda padded effortlessly for miles until reaching an Eskimo village where Telk hoped to spend the night.

  The Eskimos were concerned about a deadly polar bear in their village. Telk assured them Yolanda was harmless. A village elder stepped forward to pet Yolanda, but she took his arm off with one swipe. Yolanda was particularly aggressive toward female Eskimos, not about to share her man with anyone. Polar bears can be so possessive.

  After some sage negotiations, the Eskimos agreed to let Telk spend the night, but the bear had to sleep with him. They were afraid that if Yolanda was loose, she might roam about the village at night, eating villagers and dogs. The men were secretly relieved because the last time Telk visited, the women were all left bow legged for a month and had no interest in sex with anyone but Randal Telk. Nine months later they gave birth to fine strong children, all sharing Telk’s two-toned eyes, one green and the other brown. Women loved Telk’s eyes.

  Telk was given an igloo big enough for the bear. Unfortunately, no Eskimo women came to visit during the night. It turned out sleeping with a polar bear had a negative impact on one’s sex life. Who knew? On the positive side, Telk finally got a good night’s sleep. Yolanda snuggled up next to Telk, keeping him nice and warm. Telk woke up the next morning well rested and refreshed. Another negative, Yolanda drooled all over Telk’s head. Bears like to drool.

  The entire village waited patiently outside Telk’s igloo to voice their complaints. The peasantry is never happy. It seems that during the night Yolanda had snuck out and eaten two dogs and a one-armed village elder. There was no denying the facts. A blood trail in the snow led directly to Telk’s igloo. Telk chastised Yolanda severely. “Bad bear, no biscuit!”

  Yolanda bowed her head contritely, crawling on her belly for absolution. He patted her on the head, turning to the villagers. “See? Yolanda is really sorry. No matter, we’re leaving anyway. This place is a dump. Smells like fish.”

  The Eskimos were genuinely relieved to see Telk mount Yolanda and head out. On the outside of town, Yolanda dug up the rest of the village elder, and had him for breakfast. Still hungry, she also ate the man’s dog that had been faithfully standing guard over his icy grave. Bon appetit!

  At the edge of the ice pack, Telk found his orcas. They came to his whistle, eager to please, the leader surfacing and swimming halfway up on the ice. However, Telk was upset about their being late.

  “Where have you been? You stopped to eat, do not deny it! You whales are always playing with your food, playing catch with seals. I know how you assholes are. I should let Yolanda kick your collective asses!”

  The orca leader denied lollygagging, and began to cry.

  “Oh don’t even try denying it, seal breath. Bad orca!”

  The other four orcas immediately blamed their leader for being late. He ate a dolphin, too! Ocras are the biggest snitches in the ocean. That’s why they don’t survive well in captivity. Once you wear a punk’s jacket, there’s no shaking it.

  “For punishment, you don’t get to watch Oprah re-runs for a whole month!” announced Telk.

  The orcas cried, but Telk would not relent. Orcas were like children. One had to be firm, or they ran amuck. Telk donned his wetsuit and straddled the whale leader, riding her off into the frigid ocean. Yolanda howled jealously, threatening to jump in after Telk.

  “I shall return, Yolanda, my love!”

  * * * * *

  As the submarine came into view it seemed to be beached rather than stuck. The orcas smashed the ice build-up, freeing the sub. Telk climbed the tower and was greeted by a very appreciative captain. She kissed Telk with a lot of tongue. Telk told the orcas to go away, he no longer needed them. And they better not be snitching to Yolanda, either!

  It turned out that the submarine had an all female crew, and had been out to sea a long time. Possibly they had purposely beached themselves and exaggerated their condition to lure Telk to rescue them. Women were so devious that way. Telk had only one question for the naughty crew. “Who will be first to experience the three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss?”

  * * * * *

  Private Telk snapped out of his daydream. Corporal Ceausescu crouched next to him, scanning the valley below. The flash of artillery was followed by distant thunder as a battle raged on a far ridge line.

  “Czerinski caught the terrorists,” explained Ceausescu. “Our job here is to ambush any stragglers seeking refuge at the camp, and finish them.”

  “Elena, we shared something at the hospital,” commented Telk. “But I’m not sure what. I was heavily medicated. I remember nothing.”

  “You were well into teaching me the three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss when those nurse bitches interrupted us,” complained Ceausescu. “But tonight in my tent, you will finish the job.”

  “So we did have sex?” asked Telk, happily. “I knew it! I’m no longer a–”

  “A what?”

  “A ... lonely guy without a girlfriend? Was I any good?”

  “Oh, lover, you moved me like no one has ever done,” assured Ceausescu. “I’ve slept with a lot of men, and a few aliens. Some even call me slutty, but I kicked that Green’s ass for that. Honey, none have even come close to you.”

  “But I don’t even know what I did! I was unconscious. You slept with Sergeant Green?”

  “Yeah, but he’s got a little dick. I was surprised. Not that I don’t love your cute little fellow. It’s not the size, it’s how you use it. What is Randal’s Big Bang Theory?”

  “Ceausescu is Romanian, isn’t it?” asked Telk, deftly changing the subject. “I’m Romanian, too. Telk is Americanized for Telkovich.”

  “Telkovich sounds Polish or Russian,” commented Ceausescu. “You better not be Polish. Oh, I guess it doesn’t really matter, as long as you take me all the way to three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss. When your guard duty is over, meet me in my tent.” Elena Ceausescu left, but not before giving Telk a long passionate kiss and fondling his little fellow.

  Yes! This time when I lose my virginity, I’ll remember it!
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br />   * * * * *

  Randal Telk, a.k.a. Pimp Big Daddy T, was born the son of a Romanian pimp, as was this father, and his father before him. The Telk family had a long history of pimping and prostitution, proudly tracing their roots as far back as the Roman conquest. Legend had it that peace was made when a Telkovich pimped the daughter of a village chieftain to a Roman centurion. The centurion rewarded Telkovich with the nicest house in the village.

  Overnight, the Telkovich clan upgraded from stick-shack trash to esteemed nobility. Over the years, the Telkoviches evolved their pimping technique. No longer did they just snatch unsuspecting girls off the street or abandon the ugliest daughter on a corner, hoping to entice customers. The Telkoviches went upscale, recruiting the best hoes available. The family business and cash flow was set back temporarily when communist assholes invaded Romania during World War II, but the Telkoviches emigrated to America, shortened their name to Telk, and the rest became part of a great American success story. The Telks of the Pimp Big Daddy T conglomerate of LA had earned the reputation as the best pimps found anywhere in America.

  The CEO and Board of Directors of the Walt Disney Company were in heated debate. Earnings were down, stockholders were complaining, and their latest block buster movie, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids for the 42nd Time was a bust. It seemed like no matter how much money was wasted, Disney could no longer make good movies.

  Many ideas were on the table, but the CEO had already made his decision. Disney was going to make porn. It was an easy decision, really. Everyone liked porn. Porn was a multi-billion dollar industry Disney had too long neglected. The undisputed king of porn had already been contacted, and filming would start as soon as Disney showed him the green. However, the king was late for the board meeting.

  Eugene Depoli, a young lawyer from Stanford, stood to explain the legal implications of going porn. “Who’s the pimp waiting outside wearing the wide-brimmed purple velvet hat?” joked Depoli, checking his notes. “Shall we begin?”

  The CEO went pale. “Are you serious? Pimp Big Daddy T has been left waiting? No one dares make Pimp Big Daddy wait, not ever! He’s a busy man. I hope you get pimp-slapped for that.”

  “That was our golden parachute?” scoffed Depoli. “I’m not worried about such street scum.”

  The CEO demanded everyone in the room empty their pockets onto the table. “Hurry up! And don’t hold out unless you want to be pimp-slapped. Pimp Big Daddy’s pimp-slaps are legendary.”

  Pimp Big Daddy T entered the room looking pissed. The CEO feared this, knowing someone, maybe all of them, were about to be pimp-slapped. Pimp Big Daddy was an imposing figure, wearing a collared shirt unbuttoned to his stud-pierced navel, and enough gold bling to stoop the shoulders of any normal lesser man. Dark glasses embellished Pimp Big Daddy’s stoic expression. An Afro and lots of time in a tanning bed completed his intimidating business persona. Four hoes in spiked heels and fishnet stockings followed.

  “Welcome, Mr. Pimp Big Daddy T, we are honored to have you join us today,” said the CEO, afraid to shake hands. “Is there anything we can get you before we start? A drink? Some pot?”

  “Yeah, where’s that mofo who made me wait seven minutes in the mofo lobby? I’m gonna kick his mofo ass all the way to Pluto!”

  “There he is!” answered the CEO, pointing to Depoli. “That’s the mofo who done it to you!”

  Just one pimp-slap knocked Depoli out of his seat before he could say a word. “Let that be a lesson, mofo bitch!”

  “This is outrageous!” objected Depoli, pulling himself up from the floor. “I’ll sue. I’ll sue you all!”

  Without hesitation Pimp Big Daddy T drew a small pearl-handled Derringer and shot Depoli in each kneecap. Disney security officers rushed in, dragging Depoli outside where he was summarily tossed on the sidewalk.

  “I don’t take no mofo backtalk,” warned Pimp Big Daddy T. “You mofos best remember that, lest I have to introduce you all to Pimp Big Daddy’s twenty-six steps of mofo attitude adjustment.” Pimp Big Daddy sat, impatiently rapping his large gold rings on the table. The man had huge hands. “Well? Show me the green. What you got? My time is valuable, and you already owe me twenty grand for firing your mofo lawyer.”

  “Mr. Pimp Big Daddy, what we want to do is make a porn movie, not too graphic mind you, but soft porn, almost a sex education movie, a work of art, in the grand tradition of Disney,” suggested the CEO, confidently studying the cowed members of the board. He had them exactly where he wanted them.

  “I’ll give you an education, you mofo fool!” shouted Pimp Big Daddy, pimp-slapping the CEO off his chair. “Don’t you ever mofo tell me what to do. Straight up, I be the pimp here, that means you shut the mofo up and do as I says to do. You called me ’cause yo business be tankin’. You need me to make movies for you. That means I be the boss, and you honky mofos shut the fuck up while I be workin’! You think what I do is easy?”

  As his main ho, Yolanda, was scooping up goodies from the table, Big Pimp Daddy pimp-slapped a young accountant across the face. The accountant’s wallet dropped the floor. “Mofo was holdin’ out!” explained Big Pimp Daddy as he counted the money from the wallet, pocketing it all. “The penalty for holdin’ out is steep!”

  “Thank you for helping me think right,” replied the CEO, getting up off the floor and helping the accountant up as well. “You can make any movie you feel is best. What actresses will you need? Disney has many under contract.”

  “I don’t need no lame Mickey Mouse Disney bitches. I will use my own fine already broke-in bitches from my stable.”

  “But surely, Mr. Telk, you need professional actresses to make quality movies,” argued a senior board member. “After all, Disney is a movie studio, not some street corner hustle.”

  The CEO jumped up and pimp-slapped the arrogant board member before Pimp Big Daddy could reach the fool. It felt good. The CEO was going to enjoy the changes coming to Disney. “Security!” shouted the CEO. “Kick this mofo fool out. He be fired!”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” advised Pimp Big Daddy, affectionately patting the CEO on the back. “If you mofos had called me to help you out years ago, you wouldn’t be in this mofo mess.”

  Chapter 12

  Unexpectedly, a transport shuttle landed in camp, blowing dust and knocking over tents and supplies. Floodlights illuminated legionnaires as they scrambled aboard with vehicles and equipment. The fair Elena would have to wait before receiving the entire three-hundred-ninety-six steps to sexual bliss. Truth be known, Private Telk was relieved.

  Ten minutes later, the shuttle blasted straight up into orbit. Private Telk watched with fascination as stars fading over the curved horizon of New Colorado. What a thrill to travel the stars, to boldly go where no man has gone before...

  * * * * *

  The familiar opening voice-over sequence replayed in Captain Randal Tiberius Telk’s head. Space, the final ... whatever. These are the voyages of the USS Fury. It’s five month mission: to boldly go where no one else has the balls to go, and piss on anyone’s tree any way we want to. We’re the baddest American ship in space, with the meanest crew, and, by God, the biggest dicks of any species in the galaxy. Battle stations people, let’s kick some serious alien ass and teach their women why Earth men get all the pussy!

  The USS Fury was the first super dreadnaught America built, an amazing piece of very deadly engineering. The Fury was built for one purpose, to project American power across the vast distances of space. She carried two hundred attack craft, a full complement of fearsome armament including missile launchers, torpedoes, and guns. This ship was not built for some candy-ass exploration. Her purpose was to kick ass and let the aliens know who was the big dog in space.

  Captain Randal Tiberius Telk was ideally suited for this mission. He was veteran of many battles, and hero of Tapioca Minor. Tapioca would always stand out in Captain Telk’s long list of victories. Then an ensign just out of the Academy, serving on the decrepit USS Badger
, when the crew, led by Captain Lawrence, was jumped by an alien battle group. Outgunned and outnumbered, their fate seemed decided, but Ensign Telk refused orders to surrender.

  Telk shot his cowardly captain and flew the Badger straight up the middle of the alien armada, firing all weapons and jettisoning the warp core. The explosion disabled or destroyed every alien ship. Telk killed all alien survivors to set an example. He was promoted to captain and awarded the Hero of the Fleet medal for bravery. Lawrence was thrown out an airlock.

  Now, Captain Telk confidently sat in his chair on the bridge of the Fury. His green girlfriend, Yolanda, waited in his stateroom, using the tanning bed. When Yolanda tanned, she turned purple. Captain Telk never had sex with a purple chick before, and he couldn’t wait to try it. Captain Telk had made love with every woman on the ship, and they fought for his attention.

  The Fury had just been refitted at space dock. She had a new skin of the latest alloy and a cloak that made her invisible. Even better, the yardmaster pimped out his stateroom with a big-ass disco ball, shag carpet, lava lamps, and mirrors on the ceiling to set the mood. Being captain of a kick-ass ship and a galactic hero rated Telk some extras.

  “Sir, priority message from Space Fleet Command,” announced the sexy communications babe, swiveling her chair to show some leg. “Admiral Boedeker requests a private word with you as soon as possible.”

  “My ready room in two minutes!” barked Captain Telk, knowing his authoritative commanding voice would turn her on.

  Whenever the Admiral wanted some ass kicked, he called Captain Telk. They had an understanding. Kill them all, and let God sort them out.

  “How may the Fury help you, sir?” Captain Telk asked as he conversed with Admiral Boedeker onscreen in his ready room.