by Tristan Vick
“Thanks,” Julie said, giving him a grateful nod. “Just out of curiosity though, how on God’s green earth did you get out of those handcuffs so fast?”
“Cleaning lady found me. Sooner rather than later, thank goodness. After a bit of screaming, she alerted everyone, and Captain Greenblatte rescued me from the porcelain prison. He wasn’t at all too thrilled about it though. You’ll probably be getting an earful when you get back to the precinct.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” Julie answered.
“Holy crap!” Jack blurted out upon seeing the charred remains of Scarecrow lying despondent on the ground. “What happened to him?”
“Fire,” Julie answered.
“Will he be alright?”
“Most likely,” Julie replied. “He quoted Lewis Carroll.”
“Doesn’t he always do that?”
“Well, yeah. But I’d like to think he would be thinking of other things if he was really about to check out.”
“Should I call an ambulance, or … something?” Jack was at a loss for words. It wasn’t every day that he had to save an actual living, breathing, scarecrow from the brink of death.
Drying a tear from her eye as she looked down at Scarecrow’s burned husk, Julie answered, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll take him to see a good witchdoctor I know who’ll be able to fix him so he’ll be right as rain.” Nodding at Tiffany Blair and the mysterious snake-man’s lifeless bodies, she added, “You just deal with this mess.”
“Right,” Jack answered, putting both hands on his hips. He didn’t know what was stranger, the fact that two dead bodies and a barely pulsing pile of straw littered the street before him, or the fact that his boss was making house calls to a honest-to-god witchdoctor.
Julie Kingston smiled one last time, her thoughts drifting back to Beck. Turning around, she headed back up the road toward the mansion. As she departed, she waved over her shoulder and, without looking back, addressed Detective Wolfe. “You did good, rook. There may be hope for you yet.”
Galactic Time-Traveling
Cowgirl Super-Cop
Cleopatra
TEST SCREENING
EPILOGUE
Attack of the Killer Mutant Cephalopod
“Darling!” Johnny Savior said, gripping the buxom brunette Roxy Ricochet by her waist and pulling her in tight. “I love you! I’ve always loved you. That’s why I’m asking you, Roxy, please, stay here in the past with me. Don’t go back … to the future.”
They stood atop the Empire State Building with an armada of Nazi Zeppelins littering the sky behind them. Just then, the observation tower doors blasted open, and two Nazi soldiers ran onto the promenade. Ignoring the Nazi threat, Roxy looked into Savior’s eyes and said, “Excuse me a moment.”
Reaching down, she slid up her royal purple cocktail dress and pulled out the Walther PP tucked into her garter. Just as quickly as the Nazi foot soldiers raised their weapons and aimed at their targets, Roxy locked lips with Savior, and without so much as looking, held her gun out and fired. The Nazi scum dropped where they stood and crashed to the ground before they could ever get off a clean shot.
“You were always a natural,” Savior said, complimenting the buxom heroine.
Roxy handed Savior her gun and said, “Here, take this. Something to remember me by. Besides, you need it more than I do.”
Savior took the gun and cocked it. At that exact moment, one of the Zeppelins exploded overhead as a Godzilla-sized octopus clinging to the side of the Empire State Building swatted it out of the sky with one of its gargantuan tentacles. The other blimps loitering about aimed their machine gun cannons at the massive monstrosity and began spitting hot needles of white fire into it, pelting the beast with a furious barrage of bullets.
Walking over to the ledge, Savior tucked the gun into his flight jacket and then strapped on the rocket jet-pack that was waiting for him. Looking back one last time at Roxy, he shot her his trademark debonair grin, and a wink and said, “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.”
Roxy blew him a dapper kiss and watched as Savior pulled down his flight goggles, smashed down onto the control button he held in his right hand, and flew off into the surrounding fire and chaos. “Be careful,” she called out after him.
Not one to be left out of a firefight, Roxy Ricochet walked over to a large black cello case, bent down, and opened it. Economically tucked inside the case was a massive Gatling gun with a stabilizer and a full chain-belt of ammunition. Pulling it out, Roxy threaded the bullets into the loading mechanism, and holding the massive gun by her hip with her dress flapping in the wind, Roxy Ricochet opened fire on the other Zeppelins that hovered in the sky.
“What the hell is this movie even about?” Julie Kingston interrupted.
“Hush now,” Beck reprimanded, resting her head on Julie’s shoulder.
Sitting a couple seats down from them was Captain Greenblatte. “Why do I have to be here?” he asked in unconcealed annoyance.
“Because we all value and respect your opinion, sir,” Julie said sarcastically.
“Don’t blow smoke up my ass,” Greenblatte grumbled.
“Oh, my favorite part is coming up,” Beck said giddily, giving Julie’s arm an affectionate squeeze.
Julie gave Beck a peck on the lips, and the two women snuggled up together, getting even cozier than they already had been.
Just then, stumbling up the aisle, came Jack Wolfe. “Sorry,” he whispered, stepping gingerly up the aisle and trying not to step on any toes. “Had to stand in line forever to get these Milk Duds.”
“Zip it,” a gruff voice growled. “I can’t hear the bloody movie with all this jibber-jabber.” Jack took his seat next to Doctor Baudrillard and apologized. “Sorry, Doc.”
“I don’t get it,” Greenblatte said aloud. “If Roxy Ricochet is the main lead, why is Cleopatra in the title of the film?”
Jack turned around to look up at Captain Greenblatte, who sat directly behind them. “Roxy Ricochet is Cleopatra from the future! In the first movie, a mad scientist went back in time and kidnapped Cleopatra and imprisoned her in the future.”
“Ohhh,” Greenblatte said. “What’s the first film called?”
“Time Traveling Queen Cleopatra vs. the Alien Invasion,” Jack informed him, his words sounding garbled as he stuffed Milk Duds into his face.
Beck leaned over and whispered in the direction of Greenblatte, “It’s a trilogy.”
“Good to know,” Greenblatte intoned, holding out his hand to accept some complimentary Milk Duds from Jack.
“For Pete’s sake! Can you people be any noisier?” a familiar voice griped.
Julie turned in her seat and smiled at her old friend. “Sorry, Scary. We’ll try and keep it down. Just so you know,” Julie said, her face beaming with joy, “I’m glad to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back. This new straw packing is top notch,” Scarecrow said, flexing his new, slightly bigger arm and patting his bicep.
It looked as if Julie was about to say something more, but Scarecrow put a gloved finger to his lips to let her know quiet time had resumed.
Up on the screen, the monstrous cephalopod climbed atop the mooring tower of the Empire State Building. Roxy Ricochet turned and launched a volley of fire into the massive beast’s beak. The Gatling gun glowed red hot as it spat white hot needles at the monstrosity. However, the bullets only seemed to aggravate the Octo-Terror even more than it already was, and with one powerful swipe of one of its gargantuan tentacles, it sent Roxy flying over the edge of the building.
Screaming as she plummeted from the top of the highest building in New York, she was certain she was going to become human pancake batter on the pavement. Just then, Johnny Savior swooped down in his rocket-powered jet pack and snatched Roxy up into his arms.
“I got you,” he said, smiling big and bright.
As they flew up into the sky again, they broke though the canopy of clouds and saw a glorious sunrise stretching out as f
ar as the eye could see across an ocean of white mist. Never was there a more perfect moment for a more perfect kiss.
“So have you given it any thought?” Savior asked. “I mean, about staying with me here in New York?”
“I have,” Roxy answered, running her fingers through his hair. “And there’s something I have to tell you, Johnny.”
Savior smiled even more, giving him an artificial manic appearance, as he answered, “Yes, anything, my love.”
“It’s just that,” Roxy said, placing her hand on his chest. “I don’t really love you.”
“What?” Savior laughed, unable to believe his ears.
Remembering the gun she had given him earlier, she slipped her hand inside his jacket, to where he’d stashed it before catching her, and drew it out. Placing its muzzle under his masculine jaw, she flashed him her pearly white smile and kissed him goodbye. Savior’s eyes widened with dread, but before he could even react, Roxy pulled the trigger.
BLAM!
Freefalling, Roxy unfastened the rocket-propelled jet-pack and peeled Savior’s corpse out of it. Falling at terminal velocity, she hastened to fasten the straps around herself. Without time to spare, she pulled the strap securing herself, and hit the ignition button. The jet-pack lit up like a torch and its rockets squealed at full throttle, fighting against the force of gravity.
Slowing to a near halt, Roxy set down on Liberty Island, bellows of smoke rising all around her from the jet-pack’s exhaust. As she stripped off the spent jet-pack, a Nazi SS officer in an elegant black uniform with a red arm band sporting the swastika approached her. Standing mere feet away, he stared at Roxy with a disdainful look and asked, “Is it done?”
Roxy pulled out a small tube from between her breasts, popped it open, and added some red lipstick to her full lips. “The flyboy is out of commission. He’ll no longer be a thorn in our side.”
The Nazi officer smiled and said, “Good.”
Looking up at him, Roxy asked, “Did you fulfill your part of the bargain? Did you bring me what I asked for?”
“I am of a man of my word, Fräulein,” the SS officer replied, reaching into his side pocket. Raising up a giant green emerald the size of a tennis ball, he examined it and said, “It seems a trifle thing, this rock. Hardly worth the life of a man. Especially a man like Johnny Savior.”
Walking over to him with her characteristic seductive swagger, Roxy hastily grabbed the gem from his hand and smiled. “Savior was no hero. He was a war criminal doing the dirty work of his imperialist masters. Nazi foot soldier or American storm trooper, in the end, you’re all the same old threat to freedom.”
“You have a frank way of stating things, Fräulein.” With that, the SS officer snapped his fingers, and an entire squad of Nazi soldiers came out of the surroundings and locked down the perimeter. “Which is why I can’t let you live.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Roxy demanded.
“Let’s just say,” the SS officer informed her, “I’m taking out a little insurance policy. Framing you for the death of America’s favorite hero was just the first step. Making it look like you are a Nazi spy is, how do you Americans say it, the icing on the cake?”
Two soldiers grabbed Roxy by her arms and began to drag her away. What they weren’t ready for was her acrobatic talents. Flipping upwards and backwards, Roxy landed behind her captors. She slid one of the soldier’s pistols out and dispatched his friend by planting a bullet in the base of his skull. Using another as a human shield, she took out the surrounding members. The SS officer made a quick getaway, ducking behind his fellow soldiers for protection as Roxy wasted no time picking them off one by one.
Out of bullets, Roxy tossed the pistol and ran up to the nearest soldier and, grabbing the barrel of his rifle with one hand, clocked him in the jaw with a firmly up-thrust palm. Knocked out cold, the Nazi crashed to the ground and lay sprawled out at her feet. That’s when she heard the deep rattling of a throat being cleared.
Turning around, Roxy looked up to see a seven-foot-tall behemoth dressed in a tight-fitting Nazi uniform. She swallowed down a nervous gulp and whispered, “You’re a big fella, ain’t you?”
With that, she let loose a furious barrage of tight-fisted punches, each one of them planting themselves squarely in the large man’s gut. But her blows were merely absorbed effortlessly by his incredible mass. Looking back up at the behemoth’s undaunted smiling face, Roxy exclaimed, “Shit.”
Backhanding her, the Nazi giant smacked Roxy across her jaw and sent her freewheeling. She hit the ground with a thud and, groaning, rolled over and spat up blood as the soldier marched up to her and grabbed her by her throat. Choking her with big, meaty hands, he picked her up off her feet and raised her high into the air.
Slowly asphyxiating, Roxy kicked her legs and squirmed, but to no avail. That’s when she remembered the giant green emerald she held. Squeezing the emerald tightly in her fist, she raised her arm high above her head and brought it crashing down onto the giant’s head.
Cold-cocked, he dropped her, and both of them collapsed into a heap on the ground.
The man’s drooling mug rested on her ample cleavage. A trail of his blood-stained saliva trickled down between her breasts. “Ew, gross,” Roxy hissed as she pushed the man off of her body.
Getting onto to her feet, Roxy scanned her surrounding for any further signs of danger. Not detecting any, she swiped the soldier’s side satchel, dumped the emerald inside, and then stripped off her tattered dress.
Standing on the edge of the base of Liberty Island in nothing but her black lingerie, Roxy Ricochet swung the satchel over her shoulder, turned to the screen, winked at the audience, and then dove off the platform and into the dark blue water of New York Harbor.
Panning down onto the dark, navy blue water where Roxy Ricochet had disappeared, the aftermath of ripples slowly dissolved into choppy, blue waves, and the screen faded to black. Just when it seemed as if the credits would begin to roll, the screen suddenly came back on again.
Under the water was the faint glow of yellow and orange lights rising up from the deep. Soon, the water began to froth and foam, and breaking through to the surface rose the metal form of a giant robot. Embedded inside the glass chest plate was a cockpit, and at the helm of this giant mecha-warrior was none other than the busty Roxy Ricochet!
“I’ve got me some calamari to fry,” she growled, water rushing down from her wet hair and into the crevice of her bulging cleavage, squeezed impossibly tight together by the half-zipped wetsuit she still wore.
The behemoth robot warrior, as massive as the Statue of Liberty, strode onto the docks of Manhattan, shedding water in torrents as it took its first steps onto dry land. Large blades grew out from the robot’s forearms followed by spurts of large flames that shot out of the industrial-sized flamethrowers tucked beneath the blades. Just then, the robot’s back plating opened up, and two giant rocket thrusters emerged. Igniting, the massive robot launched into the sky and made its way toward the beast terrorizing the Empire State Building.
Suddenly, in bright bold yellow letters that clanked onto to the screen in full Dolby surround sound, the words To Be Continued appeared.
“So what did you all think?” Beck asked, looking at the dimly-lit faces of her friends.
Munching on a big bucket of buttery popcorn, Scarecrow whispered, “Best. Movie. Ever.”
“I rather enjoyed it myself,” Captain Greenblatte agreed. “It’s sort of like an adult version of Doctor Who but with a female lead and no sidekick.”
“Are you kidding me? This entire movie was senseless, stupid, and contrived!” the doctor complained. “For starters, the main character’s name wasn’t even Cleopatra. It was Roxy Ricochet. Why put Cleopatra in the title if none of your characters are named that? And don’t get me started on the ending. What was that all about?” Realizing nobody was going to help him wrap his mind around it, Doctor Baudrillard got up, and said, “If you’ll pardon me, I’m going to s
tep out for a cigarette break.” With that he stormed up the aisle, and left the theater.
“Nobody likes a critic,” Julie quipped.
“Best. Movie. Ever,” Scarecrow repeated.
As the credits rolled onto the screen, at the sight of the words starring Kateland Rameses Beckensale as Roxy Ricochet, everyone rose to their feet and gave her a standing ovation. Beck blushed and took a small curtsy as everyone applauded. It was a good end to an otherwise trying few weeks. Just then, Julie Kingston grabbed Beck by her waist and reeled her in.
“Darling!” Julie teased. “I love you. I’ve always loved…”
Beck hushed Julie with her index finger pressed to her soft lips as the onlookers all laughed together at the comical reenactment. Among close-knit company, Julie and Beck looked deep into each other’s eyes and then did the thing which two people madly in love so often do—they kissed.
The End
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In the summer of 2002, my father rented a studio flat in New York City for a full month so that we might visit my younger brother, who was attending the prestigious New York Film Academy. The sublet apartment we were renting was a mere two blocks from Washington Square Park and the NYCU school library. It was during my leisure time, much of it spent sitting around with my sketchbook, in which I began to fill the pages with images of a scarecrow wearing a fedora and a raincoat.
Why a scarecrow? Why a fedora? Why a raincoat? I have no idea. For whatever reason, that’s just what popped into my head. But for my month in the Big Apple, every free moment was spent thinking up a fantastic story to put that wily scarecrow into. This book is the product of that moment of inspiration, and this is the story of that random scarecrow that appeared to me that warm afternoon in New York City.
I am grateful to my father that he took me along for the journey even though his journey ended prematurely. It is because of my father’s never ending encouragement and support that this book—its story and characters—was even possible, and is the reason I dedicated this book to him. I am deeply saddened by the fact that he never got to see it.
