textfiles/magazines/HOE/hoe-0225.txt

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                             >> "Bounty Hunter" <<
                                by -> Trilobyte

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        i am a senior in high school.  most people in my speech 1-2 class are
 freshmen.  if any of these freshmen were to suddenly disappear, the earth
 would function in exactly the same way it did before their absence.  in
 other words, they are completely worthless.

        this is a story i wrote for speech class.  the assignment was to
 write a story about 10 specific people (description of each was given)
 stranded on an island and how you went and rescued 5 of them.  i decided to
 go for shock value.

        this is what i came up with.  i got an A++.

 ---

        My name is Tim Mirella.  I am here today to tell all of you about an
 operation I was once involved in.  But -- you can't tell anyone.  This was a
 secret mission, and if anybody out there finds out about it, I could be in a
 lot of trouble.  See, I am a bounty hunter.  I kill people for money -- LOTS
 of it.  On this particular mission, I was hired by an international drug
 ring.  I do business for them often and this was just one of the many jobs I
 have pulled for them.  I guess that they had been involved with the
 president of GM motors.  I didn't understand it at first, but they say the
 story goes that GM motors needed some quick cash when business wasn't so
 good in the 80's.  The drug ring got in touch with them, and in exchange for
 billions and billions of dollars, GM trafficked drugs inside their
 automobiles.  Later on, though, the president started riding on some high
 horse and decided that he was going to go off and start his _own_ drug ring.
 Well, I don't even have to tell you, that pissed off the drug ring.  And
 there's where I entered the picture.  The president was off an a retreat at
 a small resort on a remote Pacific island.  They wanted me to go and knock
 him off.  "No problem,"  I told them, "it's my job."

        They prepared my helicopter for me.  A simple six-shooter, some
 sandwiches, and Pepsi.  It was going to be a simple mission, they told me.
 So off I went from their headquarters in Los Angeles towards the Pacific
 Ocean, following the map as closely as I could.  The only other time I'd
 seen so much water was when my boss flushed my head down the toilet, but
 that's a totally different story.  It took 6 hours or somethin', then I saw
 the island.  It was pretty small and had a lot of green on it.  I saw the
 top of the resort from the air.  There was a helicopter landing pad on it,
 so I landed the heli and got off.

        One problem...

        There weren't any stairs down.  What kind of moron builds a
 helicopter landing pad with no stairs going down?

        I got back in the heli and took off again.  I flew around the island
 looking for a place to land it, and after about 10 minutes, found one.  I'm
 sure everybody on the island must have seen me.  The last thing a bounty
 hunter wants is to have a welcome crew, but that's exactly what I got.

        Well, more or less.

        After I landed, there was one brown-skinned man standing there.  He
 had long black hair, a necklace strung with some sort of teeth hanging from
 his neck, and wore a wraparound white robe.  He seemed to be some sort of
 religious icon for the tribe.  He stood in front of me solemnly, and when I
 approached him, he held out a dead carp.   I stood still for a moment.
 Surely, if there's going to be a resort on one of these islands, they would
 have wiped out all of the natives, right?  Well, almost right.

        We stood and stared at each other for a while, and he stood fast with
 his arm outstretched in front of him holding the fish.  It didn't move, and
 it looked like it was decaying a bit, too.

        I said, "Helllll-lo," and he screamed "BEEEEEAAEAEHHHH!#@!#%"

        I knew I was dealing with something serious here.  I walked towards
 him.  The closer I got, the wider his eyes grew.  I ended up standing right
 in front of him -- well, as close as I could get without getting too
 personal with his carp -- and quietly appeased him.  Something along the
 lines of... "AHHHHHHHH#!%"

        The strange native fell to the ground.  He was mumbling something
 like "balhlhbalijhwelihalihblihwelhialbwihelijawefjlizdsfgoij."  I put my
 foot on his head, looked up to the sky, and again tried to calm him, with
 words inspired by the rousing chorus of a Nine Inch Nails song.  It went
 something like this ... uh, "OBWBOWBO DOWNOON BEBNFOROE  THEHEH ONENENOEN
 YOOUOU O   SEEREVE."  I released my foot from his head, and he stood up and
 looked me dead in the eye.

        "Eye have left my carp on the ground for you to eat."

        Well, I wasn't exactly hungry for the carp, so I picked it up and
 whipped him with it.  After a few minutes of doing this, I paused, and asked
 him:

        "Where's the resort?"

        "Throuuughhh... the... woods."

        "Thank you," and I started to walk off.  He then called out to me.

        "There... is no one there!"

        "There's no one there?"

        "No, all PEOPL have DIED for your coming#%!!#!"

        This peaked my interest.  My helicopter stunned them so much they
 died?  What's wrong with these people?

        Then he continued, "We have known you would be coming on this date.
 Our people have dreaded this date for many, many years."

        "Me?  You've been dreading me?"

        "Yes.  You are to bring great death and destruction to our island."

        "Me?  Matt Mirella?"

        Distressed, he said, "Whuh... Matt... Mirella?"

        "Yeah..."

        "You're... not... Bob Hope?"

        I laughed and said, "No, not even close!"

        The strange man fell down and cried.

        "What's wrong?"  I said.

        "Well, in fear of Bob Hope's coming, I had commanded all of my people
 on this island to kill themselves and their families.  My entire race has
 been wiped out.  Waahh!  Are you sure you're not Bob Hope?  Was there anyone
 else coming to the island besides you?"

        "Not that I know of..."

        "Oh no!  It was all a mistake!  Damn television!"

        I was deeply confused by this point, so I walked off towards where I
 thought the hotel was.  There was a lot of forest, but eventually I made my
 way through and came to the front door.  When I entered, much to my
 surprise, I met Sonny and Cher.  They were having an affair on the island, I
 guess.  They told me that when the whole tribe had killed themselves, all
 the guests at the hotel were stranded.  The man I met at the beach was the
 religious leader of the tribe.  Sonny & Cher went off into the dining room
 and started necking.  I really, really did NOT want to see that, so I walked
 around the resort some more looking for other people.  What I came across
 next, though, I did not want to see.  When I entered the elevator, standing
 there was a adolescent boy wearing women's underwear.  He stayed in the
 elevator with me instead of getting out, and fondled me.

        Now, I'm a guy open to new things, but stuff like that doesn't sit
 well in my stomach.  This boy obviously had problems, so I pulled out my gun
 and shot him.

        That taken care of, I got off on the 3rd floor (there were four of
 them).  I didn't see anyone, but I heard a strange repetitive noise coming
 from somewhere down the hall.  I walked towards it, and I saw an old man
 wearing glasses standing by the door to one of the rooms.  He was staring
 through a small hole he had drilled through it.

        "Shhh,  come here," he said to me.  I did.  "This is a perfect
 example of what I have coined the Oedipus Complex.  Here is this
 30-something-year-old man in bed with his mother.  He obviously has mental
 problems that could be treated.  I don't want to interrupt right now though.
 He's a bit busy."

        "Jesus christ," I said, "what's wrong with this god-damned resort?"

        "I'm sure it can all be explained.  Even some of the strangest things
 in the world have an easy explanation based on the condition of the human
 mind."

        "You seem like a pretty smart guy, fella.  What's your name?"

        "Doctor Sigmund Freud."

        "Wow, pleased to meet you!  I've heard about some of your stuff from
 time to time.  You're pretty popular."

        "Why thank you, I work hard at what I do.  Though some people may
 disagree," he laughed.  "Come, take a look at this."

        "Well, uhh... I don't know."

        "Do you not want to see how the Oedipus Complex relates to the inner
 workings of the strange occurences on this island?"

        "Well, I suppose..."

        One quick look was long enough to inspire me to knock down the door
 and burst into the room in a wild frenzy.

        That wasn't that man's mother.

        It was my mother.

        And that certainly isn't my mother's son.

        It's my best friend, Laslo Linelli.

        "What in SAM HELL are you doing in BED with my MOTHER, LASLO?"

        "Wait!  I can explain!" he tried to say, but I pulled out my gun and
 fired.

        Whoops, I missed and hit my mother.  Oh well, she's a whore anyway.

        I fired again and it went right through Laslo's head, killing him
 instantly.

        I stood for a moment and revelled in the blood, then turned and left
 the room.  Dr. Freud seemed very interested in my mental condition after
 that, and followed me down the hall asking me all sorts of questions.  I
 wasn't interested, though, and didn't answer a single one of them.

        "And did your mother ever force you to attach pigs' feet to your
 scalp?"

        "Have you seen the president of GM around here?"

        "Uhh... I do not know."

        "big fat guy with a gigantic red nose wearing a suit?"

        "Ahh, yes.  He is probably at the bar.  Very depressed and guilty...
 his mother probably made him hold her hand as he crossed the street until he
 was 50 and then she would beat him on the head with a..."

        I tuned him out after a while.  I took the down elevator (the corpse
 of the boy was beginning to smell kind of bad, so I decided I would use the
 stairs from then on) and then looked for the bar on the ground floor.  After
 walking around for a bit, I discovered a dark room with lots of bamboo and
 grass hanging in the doorway.

        "That must be the bar."

        I walked in, and it was very dark, but in the corner I made out the
 form of a hunched-over bald man and a fat man in a suit.  I walked over, and
 sure enough, there was the president of GM.  He didn't notice Freud and I
 were there and continued on with his conversation.  I pulled out my gun and
 popped him one.

        Freud cheered and started clapping and then the old man at the table
 lifted his head towards me and said, "Why'd you go and do that?"

        It was bob hope.

        "Bob Hope!  You're the man!"

        "Well, I know.  Heh.  Hey, you weren't here before.  Where'd you come
 from?"

        "I was here to kill him."

        "You're not here to kill me are you?  I'm close enough to dead as it
 is!  That gunshot almost killed me just from being at the same table!"

        I felt obligated to laugh at him because he's an old man trying to do
 his best.  He must have been funny at one time, I decided, and let it go at
 that.

        "No, Bob (if I can call you Bob).  In fact, I would like to take you
 home, if you'd let me."

        "Sure thing!"

        "Follow us, we'll go out to the helicopter."

        A familiar voice in the doorway asked if they could go too.  It was
 Sonny, and I agreed, so he & Cher followed us out to the helicopter also.

        We trudged through the same part of the forest I had originally come
 through, and when we got to the helicopter, the old tribe witchdoctor or
 whatever he was was still laying flat on the ground.

        "You can probably get up now."

        He did.

        "Meet Bob Hope," I said, and Bob Hope stuck his arm out to shake the
 shaman's hand.  Then I saw that there was a small catfish in Bob's hand!!#

        "You... are... BOB HOPE?!#%?!?#%?!#%?"

        The shaman began to repeatedly punch himself in the head until it
 caved in and he died.

        I told Freud, Bob Hope, Sonny, and Cher that they could get in the
 helicopter.  I got in the pilot's seat and then had that familiar sensation.
 Nature was calling again.  I had to pee.  I remember what my mother used to
 always say... "go before you leave so you don't have to stop."  Since I was
 piloting a helicopter over the Pacific Ocean, I figured there wouldn't be
 much opportunity to stop, so I told them all to hang on a sec and I went off
 into the woods.  I looked around for a suitable tree.  There were lots of
 bushes around, so I looked for one that would be extra fun to piss on, and
 then I whipped it out and began to urinate.

        Then, suddenly, the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened.
 A voice directly below me suddenly screamed as loud as anyone has ever
 screamed before.

        "HEEEEEEEEEEY!!#%#!%"

        I almost fell backwards I was so surprised.  I looked down, and there
 was governor Jim Edgar, laying on the ground, with both of his legs chopped
 off, covered with urine.

        "What the hell?"  I asked.

        "Don't ask.  Haven't seen you in a long time.  Are you on a mission?"

        "I'm Zsa Zsa Gabor."

        "Nice to meet you.  Now get me the hell out of here."

        I began to assess a plan of action, but then realized that the horse
 was still out of the barn, so to speak.  So I put it back where it belonged,
 and then reassessed the situation.

        "I'm not taking you anywhere, you're soaked in piss!"

        "I think you owe it to me.  Number one, I pardoned you for all those
 killings of yours, number two, YOU JUST PEED ALL OVER ME."

        I decided he's right.

        "You're right," I said.  I grabbed his hand and dragged him out to
 the helicopter and then threw him in the back.  He was gashed and bleeding,
 but I'm sure he'd do the same thing for me.  I heard groans and things from
 the others in back with him.  They must have been responding to his
 odorificness.

        We headed off back to the United States, where everybody went back
 where they belonged.  Sonny went off to ski in Colorado.  He told he's
 pretty good.  Jim Edgar went to a plastic surgeon, Bob Hope rented
 a cryogenic chamber, and Freud moved in with me to follow me everywhere I
 go.  He finds me "captivating."  <-- Freud voice!

        Moral:  Weird things happen to bounty hunters.

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      * (c) HoE publications.  HoE #225 -- written by Trilobyte -- 4/3/98 *