Hairy Bromance

by T L Barrett

  * * * *

  Barry heard the commotion coming from the woods while pulling his pants up after a very satisfying morning constitutional. As the sounds of trees cracking came to him through the bathroom wall he stepped out of his pants. He wouldn’t need them. The sound had his heart going and a tail mostly grown.

  He ran through the woods until he caught sight of the source of the cacophony. Glen was swinging a stout trunk of maple against the rest of its neighbors. Branches and the tops of trees flew in all direction.

  “Glen! What the hell? Glen!”

  The Sasquatch roared and tossed his tree like a caber up and out of sight. He panted and leaned against a tree. It fell over. Glen rolled over, looked like he might give up the fight to rise, and then pulled himself up.

  “Gee, Barry, I’m a little busy in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “Sorry, Captain Justice, I didn’t realize that you had to protect the forest against itself.”

  “Look, lay off, already, okay. I’m not having a good time of it.” Glen’s simian face hung gray and slack. Sweat coated his features. Barry couldn’t remember if the Sasquatch had ever sweated before.

  “Jesus, Glen, you don’t look good at all. Are you all right? Are you sick?”

  “No, I’m pretty fuckin’ far from all right, all right?”

  “You really haven’t had anything to drink lately, have you?” Barry asked in awe.

  “No, no, I haven’t,” Glen said. He raised his pasty face proudly.

  “Man, I didn’t think you could actually do it,” Barry said.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy; but, seriously, I’m thinking I’m not going to be able to either.” Both of them looked at the carnage around them.

  “Well, I don’t know if this is the best time, and I’m not nagging on you or anything, it’s just…”

  “What?”

  Barry held up the morning paper he still clutched in his hairy hand.

  “I can explain about that—” Glen began.

  “’Who is Dark Boy?’” Barry read aloud.

  “Dark who?” Glen asked. Barry held the paper out. Glen read the feature article title again and then saw the huge dark picture underneath. Ollie flew above the town streetlights, a mask on his face and a cape swirling about him.

  “Nearly Fifty citizens, including the sheriff and two other officers of the law, gathered below a reported suicide attempt, to witness what appeared to them to be a flying superhero child.’” Barry read out loud.

  Glen whistled.

  “This is way out of control. Ollie is…Jesus…this is…and it is your fault, you know.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to nag me?”

  “This isn’t good! I don’t know what you were thinking.”

  “That little bastard did it,” Glen said, rubbing his chin. “He out-heroed me.”

  “Nobody out heroed anybody. This isn’t heroic. Ollie leapt off of a building and scared a whole lot of people, probably.” His voice rose to high yell: “He’s on the front page of the paper!”

  “Quiet down, I’m sure it’s no big deal.”

  “I’d call this a pretty big deal. I think most people would. It’s on Yahoo News.”

  “He’s wearing a mask, at least,” Barry said.

  “That’s not all. Exhibit number two,” Barry held up a page with writing on it. Glen had no idea where Barry had been hiding that. “Wait a minute. You said you could explain about something.”

  “Oh, that’s nothing important.” Glen said. “What’s on the paper?”

  “This is a note from Ollie. I found it when I woke up this morning. Turns out, Ollie has scared some local drug dealers into telling him about their connection. He’s planning to do a raid of the ‘villain’s headquarters’ tonight. He even left the connection’s address in case we wanted in. It’s on Pawanic Town Road. That’s just a little over a mile from here through the woods!”

  “He really did out-hero me,” Glen said.

  “Glen, someone could really get hurt out of this. We need to get there first, just before dusk.”

  “Get to the bad guys before Ollie does, got it.”

  “No, see what kind of thing our friend is getting into, what you got him into!”

  “You’re nagging again,” Glen said. Barry growled.

  “Whoa, down boy. We’ll go and make sure everything is copasetic, all right?” Barry opened the paper, grunted, and continued to read.

  “Hey, a two car accident, and one heart attack resulted from a near collision with a large hairy animal on Route Seven last night. The authorities believe it might have been a bear. You don’t know anything about that, do you?”

  Glen shrugged his shoulders.

  “Why would you assume that I would know anything about that? Didn’t you know: ‘never assume, because you make an ass out of—” Barry cut Glen off with a growl from behind the paper.

  “Man, whatever happened to not nagging?”

  * * * *

  As the sun set, Glen and Barry crept through the long shadows under the trees in back of the connection’s house.

  “This is so cool. We’re like the dynamic duo,” Glen whispered.

  “No, I am not a superhero. You are not a superhero,” Barry growled.

  “Come on, what would your code name be? I can’t just call you Barry, can I? ‘Oh, you mean Barry Trudeau, that weirdo that lives out on Route 7?’”

  “Fine, I don’t know. I’ll be Wolf-Man, I guess.”

  “Lame!”

  “Well, what about you? The pantless wonder?”

  “I am The Sasquatch!” Glen pounded his chest.

  “Come off it! Sasquatch! Batman doesn’t go around calling himself, ‘The Human’ does he?”

  “Batman sucks! He’s a rich bastard with a whole lot of toys and a chip on his shoulder,” Glen waved the thought away like a bug.

  “He is a crypto-fascist with mother issues,” Barry agreed.

  “That’s my man!” Glen said, and the two slapped five. “Okay, we rush the house on the count of five?”

  “No, let’s just do a reconnaissance mission. See what were up against first, all right?”

  “Fine,” Glen sighed. “Do you smell anything?”

  “I smell Cannabis,” Barry said.

  “Weed? Oh, sweet!” Glen stood up and trotted toward the back of the house. The walk out basement stood between two slopes of hill. Barry jumped and grabbed a big tuft of hair on Glen’s back.

  “Ow!” Glen cried. “What was that for?”

  “Get down. You don’t know what kind of thugs we’re dealing with. I saw four trucks on the other side of the house. They might be big time dealers.”

  “They’re not big time anything, except rednecks. They also have three four wheelers and two snow machines.”

  “Bastards!” Barry hissed. “Don’t they know what kind of damage that kind of thing does to our environment?” Glen gave Barry a strange look and continued toward the house. Barry, distracted by righteous indignation, followed.

  Glen stooped around the basement door, reached over and yanked at the door. Finding it locked, he yanked again. The doorknob came off in his hand. The door started to swing open. Glen and Barry peeked in.

  Bright solar lights filled the basement ceiling hanging just under the cross boards of the ground floor and rows of stapled insulation. Underneath the lights grew a veritable forest of pungent marijuana plants.

  “Jack pot! Oh, dude, I’m going to be getting me some of that, and that, and that!” Glen grinned. He stooped over and went inside.

  “This isn’t why we came. I don’t think you should take any,” Barry warned.

  “Dude, its fine. They’re criminals, Barry. What does it matter?” Glen said.

  “Irony doesn’t even register with you at all, does it?” Barry sighed. Glen ignored the quip and reached out and tore a good half of a plant off in his hand and sniffed it.

  “This is the good stuff! You remember that time wh
en we got Mister Cuddles all high, and he kept walking backwards into shit? That was hilarious!” Glen reminisced.

  “Yeah, I remember, but I don’t know. The last couple of times we tried it, I got all sketched out, and there’s that weird thing it does to my heart sometimes…” Barry said.

  “Dude, you’re just being paranoid,” Glen said while he shoved the budded leaves into his nostrils.

  “I know, that’s what I just said.”

  “Well, I’m taking all I can carry, dude,” Glen said.

  At that moment, the owner and the presumable Marijuana drug kingpin walked into the room. He wore a Hooters T-shirt and a ‘Git-R-Done’ baseball cap.

  “See, what did I tell you? Total red-necks,” Glen said. The guy dropped his jaw and his bottle of Miracle Grow. He turned and ran out of the room.

  “Okay, we’ve got to go, now!” Barry hissed.

  “Yeah, okay, give me a sec. Let me just grab a few more plants,” Glen said.

  The red-neck appeared back in the doorway. He leveled an M-16 at Glen and Barry.

  “Oh, shit!” Glen said and threw the marijuana plants at the guy. Barry dove for cover.

  The M-16 rattled out a deafening stream of bullets. Cannabis leaves rained like confetti all around the two monsters as they fled for safety. Glen bowled his way through the rows of pots, hitting hanging lights with his head. Barry scurried on all fours as the bullets sprayed all around him.

  Barry stopped just in time before ramming himself into a huge steel heating oil tank. He looked back to see the red-neck bearing down at him, leveling the M-16 once more.

  “No, don’t!” Barry growled, and rolled out of the way. He hit the door frame of the walk out door just as the red-neck shot a dozen rounds into the tank.

  The explosion was beyond deafening, beyond understanding in the makeshift greenhouse. Barry was thrown up against the door frame and then spun out onto the lawn, without breath and sense. After the sound and force great gouts of flames filled the world in a flash.

  Glen came through those flames, taking a chunk of the door frame with him. His hair smoked and little flames traveled up the hairs of his back. He was screaming something unintelligible.

  Barry struggled to his feet, coughing a little vomit out on the well-mown lawn.

  “Glen,” he screamed in a breathless voice, “stop, drop and roll.” Glen flapped his hands in an effeminate flurry and looked at Barry in mindless terror.

  “Roll on the grass!” Barry barked. Glen fell to the ground and rolled. Barry limped over to a clothesline and grabbed the first thing he could. He looked at the little kid’s footed pajamas and tossed them aside. He grabbed a bath towel and ran over to his friend.

  Glen had most of the fire out, but Barry tried to smother the smoking hairs as best he could.

  “Are you all right?” Barry asked. Glen nodded.

  “How about you? Did the bastard shoot you?” Glen asked.

  “No, but even if he did, I doubt he was packing silver.”

  “Hey, we should crawl up as close as we can,” Glen said. “I bet you can get wicked high off those fumes.”

  “We definitely need to get out of here,” Barry panted.

  “I’m sure the bastard’s dead; he was face on to the explosion.”

  “Yeah,” Barry agreed, he looked at the blazing furnace of the basement. Flames were already running up the sides of the house. He could see the flickering light of fire from inside the ground level windows. He blinked and looked away. His eyes fell on the footed pajamas lying on the grass. He looked up at the second story window.

  As if on cue, a woman’s scream came from up above. This was followed by the crying of children.

  “Oh, no, Glen,” Barry moaned. Glen stood up. “We’ve got to do something!”

  “I’ll go.” Glen said and paused, as if trying to ascertain if he just said that.

  “Are you sure?” Barry asked.

  “It’s all my fault. I caused this.” Glen looked like an oversized, burnt, and very sad gorilla. He straightened his back. “I was born for this!” He took off running toward the house. He scaled the side of the house, the flames licking out at him. A ground floor window blew out beside him as he went. He got to the upstairs window and tore the screen out. Someone screamed inside.

  “Please, lady, give me your kids. Hurry!” Barry saw the terrified woman thrust a hysterical child of about three into Glen’s giant outstretched hand. Glen swung the child out of the window and looked down.

  “Barry! Hurry up! You got to catch him!” Barry ran. Suddenly, all the painful memories of phys-ed class returned to him: the inevitable fumbles, the humiliating defeats. Glen swung the child lightly and let go. The child plummeted screaming toward the earth. Barry leapt…

  …and caught the child in his hairy arms.

  “Heads up, man, we got another one!” Barry looked up. A five year old girl, with wild golden hair flying around her, fell toward him. Barry caught this one as well. He scooped both of them up and ran further away from the flames. When he deposited them on the cool evening grass, he looked back.

  A second explosion occurred. Flames roared out of the basement and twisted in the air below Glen. The woman struggled into Glen’s arms. Glen looked down with dismay.

  “You can do it, Glen!” Barry screamed. “Jump!”

  Glen jumped. It looked like for a moment that the fire, like some villainous demon leapt out in frustration trying to engulf the hero and the damsel. Glen landed adroitly upon his feet. He lowered the woman to the ground. She ran, weeping to her children.

  “That was amazing,” Barry said, as Glen approached.

  “It’s all done in the name of duty,” Glen said stoically. Barry smiled, and put a hand out on Glen’s shoulder.

  “Ow! For fuck sake, Barry,” Glen roared.

  “Sorry,” Barry pulled his hand away.

  “Keith,” the woman screamed. She started running toward the house. Glen caught her and held her against him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and held her against himself. She wept and hit his big chest, but did not fight.

  The sirens sounded in the distance.

  “Now, we definitely have to get out of here!” Barry said.

  “Agreed,” Glen said.

  * * * *

  That next day, Barry appeared with a bag full of pain killers, comic books, and six pack of beers.

  “Thanks, Barry. Where’s your six pack?” Glen asked. Barry looked at Glen for a long moment.

  “Dude, I’m kidding. Have you seen the vampire kid?”

  “His name’s Ollie, and no I haven’t,” Barry said and got out an aloe salve to rub into Glen’s back.

  “Shoot, he’s probably pissed that we stole his thunder,” Glen actually sounded remorseful.

  “I don’t know about that,” Barry said. “Look.” He held out the morning’s paper to the Sasquatch. Glen took it and read the big caption on the first page.

  ‘Hairy Heroes’ the caption read. ‘Drug Dealer Dies in Greenhouse Accident, Family Saved’ followed. Below this were two pictures. One was of Barry catching the girl as she flew through the air. The second was of Glen, woman in his arms as he leapt from the burning building.

  “Nice!” Glen said. “Dude, we made the front page! We’re superheroes! Take that, Dark Boy!”

  “I think you’re missing something, here, Glen,” Barry said. Glen looked up at him with incredulity for a moment and then understanding dawned in his eyes.

  “Oh, no one was there to take these pictures! No one knew about the raid, except…” Barry nodded.

  “It’s not nice, anyway. I’m worried. I can’t imagine the powers-that-be are going to like this one bit.”

  “There are powers-that-be?” Glen asked.

  “Aren’t there always?” Barry asked.

  “I guess you’re right.” Glen said.

  “I always am,” Barry agreed.

  “If you aren’t going to finish those last two beers…”

>   Chapter Four

  The Folk Tribunal Cometh

  It probably didn’t help that Barry was in his bathrobe at the kitchen table, drinking herbal tea. He looked the part of the stereotypical parent worried out of sleep that his teenage son had not made it in by curfew.

  Ollie came through the dark pantry. He didn’t make a sound, but Barry caught the whiff of basement and blood as soon as the door had opened.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!” Afterward, Barry knew this choice of words did not exactly help.

  “I’ve been out, Barry, what’s up? I took your advice, and you were right. I can fly, man, really, really fly!”

  “So I’ve gathered.”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess you saw that.” Ollie smiled.

  “I did. Do you have anything to say about this, young man?” Barry slapped yesterday’s paper on the table. Pictures of Barry and Glen rescuing a family from a burning building covered the page.

  “Young man?” That had definitely not helped. “Young man? What the hell, Barry! You can’t talk to me that way! I was trying to do you guys a favor.”

  “Some favor. You put us all in danger.”

  “I did no such thing. The only danger you’re in is becoming shut-ins and drinking yourselves to death. There’s a reason Glen acts so crazy when you hang out with anybody else. You keep him shut up in the cave in the woods all the time. I’d go crazy, too. I don’t know why you can’t just take him to Comic Con, or whatever.”

  “I’m not keeping Glen from going anywhere. He’s free to go and do as he pleases. If he wants to go to Comic Con, he can damned well go to Comic Con!” Barry was screaming now, but it was hard not to. It was perhaps, one of the many reasons he had decided long ago never to reproduce.

  “You know that Glen’s situations not like ours,” Ollie said quietly. “He depends on you.” Barry nodded his head, disconsolately and sagged in his chair.

  “I know,” Barry said. “This,” he motioned to the newspaper, “is what I’ve always feared. We could be in real danger here, now.”

  “I think you’re just being paranoid. I’m sure we’re in no danger.”

  “I think I have to agree with the oversized puppy-dog, there,” a man with a New Jersey good-fella accent said from the dark pantry.