It was late, and I had already been all over the world. I had actually given up all hope of finding Mr. Cruise and was on my way home. I decided to stop in at a small bar just west of Vail to have one last shot of whiskey and maybe a beer before making the drive down the freeway back to Denver. There was a pirate flag waving in the cold mountain air just outside the place so I figured it was friendly.
I was wrong. It was a setup.
At first nothing was out of the ordinary. The folks were dirty and the whiskey was strong. I settled in at the bar next to an old gruff looking man who looked like he might have a story or two to tell in hopes of making the time go by in a pleasant way. He looked like the kind of guy who would shoot off a couple of nice yarns about the war after a couple of shots and a free beer. He smiled at me in a way that reminded me of something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then, strange things started to happen all around us.
The large bouncer who was sitting quietly at the entrance got up all of a sudden and locked the doors as if they were closing. It was then that I took a closer look at my surroundings. I quickly realized these were not the nice Colorado small town folk portrayed in South Park every night at 11. These people looked more like the assholes I left back in California when I vacated that hellhole 10 years ago. Then, the old man started freaking out.
It was like that scene from Total Recall, you know, the one where Arnold breaks out of the old lady disguise. Except it wasn’t our greatest action hero that popped out of the clever and expensive mask. It was none other than Tom Cruise himself, and he had a look that could freeze boiling water on his ugly yet determined mug. The next thing I knew, I was flanked on either side by large Samoan gentlemen with blank expressions on their faces. I tried to get up, but they would not let me leave.
“I read your article and know of your quest to destroy me,” said Tom coldly “Well; it seems you have found me, Mr. Zero.” I quickly reached for my cell phone, in hopes of calling the cavalry to come in and rescue me. There was no service. Tom shot me a cockeyed grin. “Problem?”
“No problem.” I said in a cool voice as I settled back down on the barstool and took the shot I had in front of me. “No problem at all, I have been looking forward to this.” Tom began to look uneasy. He knew I had an ace up my sleeve. Little did he know I had a whole deck of aces.
“Katie sold you out, brother,” I said with Sean Connery-like accent “she fell in love with one of the pirate ninjas at a party last week. I was notified of the situation five minutes before I walked in here. You didn’t think the pirate flag was all that clever, did you?” Tom was stunned. I guess he did think the pirate flag was clever. His voice became broken and fearful as he ordered the bodyguards on either side of me. “Seize him!” he screamed. The command fell on deaf ears. They simply looked at me and smiled while they backed off slowly.
The next thing Tom knew he tasted an empty beer bottle to the side of his face. He went down quicker than Leon Sphinx in a Tyson title fight. Then I felt a shot to my nuts. Only a pussy would try to hit a man in the nuts. Luckily, football season had just begun and I was wearing my protective cup.
“Trying to attack zero below the belt like a true candy ass?” I said as the group of fifteen pirate ninjas that had infiltrated the church of Scientology since the beginning of last year formed a circle around us. “You know the rules Tom,” said the man with the eye patch who was posing as the bartender, “This is your first night at fight club.” I was already in the corner, removing my shoes, shirt, and belt.
The ass whuppin he received that night was arguably worse than the one MI:3 took at the box office last summer. When we finally opened the door to let him leave, he vowed revenge on pirate ninjas everywhere. “You may have won this round, double-o zero, but the war is far from over!”
“You are right, Tom,” I shot back with a smirk “but this day, the pirate ninjas prevail.” And with that, it was over. I returned home, rolled up a fat joint, and watched the Bronco’s beat the hell out of the Patriots. Now, I return to ShoutWire.
To tell people stuff that isn’t news.