The hum of the parking lot lights were just loud enough to cover the screams of the little flies as they hovered just above "Taco Hell". It was cold outside but indoors, Moochie, the crew Chief, (and secret silent partner in this cash cow) was hard at work making the secret sauce for tommorrow.

From the Phillips compact radio Aretha could be heard, R.E.S.P.E.C.T. that's what it means to me", Mooch tapped his left foot in rythem as he stirred the pot both hands and looked longingly at the jar just above. Inside was a piece of flesh, pink and moist with some thick black and white hair on the underside. It seemed to move with the music.(coincidence, i think not)

Unknown to many, Goliath, the late dead evil overlord, was Moochies godfather; upon his death, his agents had recovered some of the splatter from the original BoomCow and adhering to the wishes of their dying overlord, brought the remains to Mooch. At first Mooch resisted, said he wanted to go straight, he had met someone. That he was different now. Knowing better the agents presisted. Thus, after being given the overlord robes and the septre (amoung other garments) Mooch relented. So in a ritual, during the winter equinox at a beach on Padre Island the new overlord was crowned. At the end of the ritual one of the agents whispered to the new king of kaos, just make sure you take the antibiotics for six weeks and no matter what was left in the underware I sure you will be fine. With that a new star was born. Mooch left the ritual, the goat things was starting and Mooch had a soft spot in his .... heart for goats and as such did not what to see what they were going to do with the goat, petroleum jelly, a case of jolt cola and four dozen cases of pop rocks.

Getting into his Nash rambler with push botton shifting, Mooch slid in a tape, "should have been gone... could be heard as he headed toward Taco Hell.

Can I get a Muhahaha?

The river was calm and the water was still, lite puffs of warm dry air would occasionally blow; on the banks the reeds swayed in golden rhythm as the sum slowly slid home for the evening. She was an old sternwheeler, but she had been restored and finished better than a two hundred dollar a night hooker from Pacific Palisades. She had all the bells and whistles. A floating luxury hotel and casino, she was. She was the property of the Chom Company. She would offer her guests travel on the Nile between Thebes and Cairo in decadent style and provided an all you could eat buffet.

Killer Steve sat at the Baccarat table. He wore a white dinner jacket and his nails were polished. The tortoise shell frame and dark green lens hid his darting eyes. Buxom women in tight silk dresses caused heat in the room and distraction in Steve. Distractions he thought he had almost lost. The short balding man with an Punjab, Indian accent seated across from Steve , queried, “so, from where do you say you are from?” Steve slowly lifted the tumbler and slid the scotch to his lips then into his mouth, the teasing warmth was felt by his gums and he smelled the oak casts as he swallowed – after a second, remembering the two good thoughts he had, Steve turn to Mr. Lingeraj Bahenipaty and in his best Robert Mitchem said, “ I didn’t.” Steve then exhaled. In the corner the band continued in its murdering of old standards, the started a Cole Porter tune with a trombone solo.

The Bank was about to deal when Steve excused himself and bid good night to the other player. Lingeraj smiled, yet his anger was evidenced by the redness of his neck. Raj, as his friends called him, did not like losing his money. Steve rose and fingered his chips, selecting two he tossed them on the table and turned. Across the casino room he saw a ghost. Ignoring fate’s tap, Steve walked over to the mahogany bar and took a stool. The bartender was just finishing with his story to another patron; a somewhat unkempt fellow. “… And so, I corrected them both,” the bartender said in the voice of a detached professor of theology. Korben the bartender had been with the company for some time; rumor and gossip had it he had either been an assassin for the Holy Roman Catholic Church or the premier pole dancer at Luis’ in ‘Cisco, either way he was not someone you pissed off.

Korben looked over to his left and saw Steve, with that he reached under the bar for the Glen Livet, (blue label). Steve could see that his ghost approached by the reflection in the large mirror that ran the length of the bar on the back wall. Korben poured two generous fingers into a mostly clean glass and placed it in front of Steve like a mutual understanding. Korben looked at Steve and said, “the swallows fly south in the winter.” Steve answered, “No shit, and I have miles to go before I sleep.” (in his head Steve thought to himself, yeah, betcha they’re fucking European Swallows too.) With that Steve tossed his drink down and turned to face his father. Monkey smiled.

Just south of Victoria on the 77 a low slung car traveled at speed in the darkness, inside was Manager Mooch’s half sister. Dark hair with green eyes, long slender and tan legs with toe nails painted crimson red. There was a light drizzle that fell from the heavens, yet the speed of the yellow “Dino” was enough to forgo the use of the blades. From the radio an industrial sounding music could be heard. Dizzy was switching between stations. Hard to find anything she thought to herself as she paused on the heavy beat. “Dead, I am the one, exterminator’s son, slipp’n through the trees…” naw, she said to herself and turned the right knob clockwise, a funky cow bell could be heard, then the raspy voice of Sly began to tell how it was a family affair and how it’s in the blood, “blood is thicker than the mud, it’s a family affair…” Dizzy stopped there, thinking it was apropos.

To her right was a small disk marked Half-Life, secretly written on the disk were Dr. Evil’s calculations for the re-animation process. What was it that Dr. Evil had said in that Lenny and Squiggly voice of his, oh yes, “I have harnessed the shadows that stride from world to world to sow death and madness...” Well that old drunk better be right. She remembered what he father had told her long ago, Evil was my friend in college and I can speak of him only with extreme terror. This terror is not due altogether to the sinister manner of his work but of his thoughts. Memories and possibilities are ever more hideous than realitites. Dizzy thought, well this posssibliity will soon be reality and mankind will cow-er. Reaching into the small pocket in her Dolce and Gabbana black leather zippered mini skirt she pulled out a cube of bubbilicious and pop it in her mouth. Mmm, grape.

Next to the disk was a bottle of Tangery Gin, Mooch had pleded with Dizzy to bring him some, said that he could never find it where he was. She remember how he bitched about the fact that all he could find was warm Pearl beer and pointy boots.

The sweet sound of Enzo’s work could be heard in the desert night as the warm smell of colitas waifed through the airvents. Up ahead in the distance were the shimmering lights of a one horse town, Harlingen, Texas. Dizzy, balancing the steering wheel with her thighs slammed the clip into the Sig-Sauer and placed it in its holster; on her inner upper thigh.

The song changed, “Oh what night… late December back in 63’…

In Harlingen, at a smelly drive through, in the dark, in a dirty back storeroom sat the crew cheif manager of Taco Hell. A sly voice could be heard from that room, “ …drop it likes it hot … drop it like its hot.” Mooch poured his gin and juice and wiggled his ass as he sat back into his manager’s cowhide office chair, pulling out his a magazine from the top right drawer of his desk. “Ah yea baby, talk to daddy”. Mooch opened his vintage copy of Warts and Hos. His mind drifted as the radio voice sputtered in the distance…What up, cuz? It’s tha D O double Gizzle wit da hizle. Give up your trickass numba and I’ll bag ya the shizzle to da shiznit, know what I’m sayin, nig? Mooch was in his own private Idaho…
(charubs and cupids dance in his head, except these little fellows had whips, leather thongs and bottles and bottles of warm baby oil)

It was early in the morning, Dizzy would be here by noon. Mooch was about to make a cup of coffee and was about to grab the caffinated beans when he remembered how too much caffine just turn his stomach. Mooch grabbed the De-caf and began to brew. Across the globe Monkey and Steve were boarding a black jet out of Garcia, both with looks of determination on their faces (or maybe constipation).

Outside of Taco Hell the bums were being rolled by the kids going to school. At the newsstand, the news paper headlines read Mexican Sniper caught while killing bluernose dolphins in the gulf.

In Taco Hell, Mgr. Mooch was hard at work preparing for the days customers.

The grind of the hard shell make an interesting sound; partially sand tumbling over itself with the forces of the waves and the rest was a metalic sound of metal being compressed. He added a little robotussin for flavor and color. The stirring is pretty quite; Mgr. Mooch would usually use a large wooden spoon. Every once in a while Mooch would pull out his large potato masher that he used to extract the pulp from the little critters. After he had processed the "meat" he would place a small amount on the grill and cook it, adding spices. Once done, it was ready for the taco shell.

The heat from the cook top caused a drop of sweat to fall from the brow of the crew chief; it hit the floor. Mooch looked down at the drop and notice a roach stopping to drink of his toil. Mooch picked him up and while muttering, "here you go little buddy, your friends are waiting for you," tossed the roach into the mix.

Mooch was feeling a little "world" today so he took out his pirated copy of "where is the love" and placed it into his "box" and as it began Mooch noticed that from the jar above the grill the special piece began to jiggle and gyrate. It seemed that music vibrations had an effect on it.
In a flash it was clear to Mooch why all prior attempts by Dr. Evil, and Dr. Ziplock had failed in reviving the BoomCow. Not only did they need the "re-animate" the flesh but it required some sort of stimulant in the form of radio vibration. Everything was going to plan. Mooch dipped his twinky in the de-caf and smiled.

The runway was in the dessert. Only an underground hanger and a fence could be seen. The roof doors of the hanger opened like jaws of a fish ascending to the surface for it meal. The jet was fully loaded and carried a crew of two – pilot and communication/systems officer. The jet went up the lift and onto the tarmac. The dull finish of the black jet blended into the night sky like a polar bear in a blizzard all that could be seen were faint breaths of fire from its tail as it jumped into the sky.

Steve had not seen his father since he graduated from University. Monkey still looked the same, just a little more gray around the temples and now he sported san-a-belt. Not a word had passed and since they left the Nile the air between them was heavy with things not spoken. Finally Monkey broke the silence with so what about those Patriots? Steve looked at Monkey and said, if you mean the defense system it’s a piece of shit if you meant football, it’s for pansies, Rugby is where its at. Oh look at me with my little helmet and my teal jersey, I might get hurt. Steve made a face in mock injury. Rugby! They are a bunch of homos, grabbing each other, countered Monkey. Can’t throw a ball worth bean, wear these tight little white shorts and the reason they don’t wear pads is because they just don’t hit that hard. Steven and Monkey turned in opposite directions and the silence resumed.

Monkey and Chrissy had met some twenty nine years earlier in the foothills just outside of Kurdistan on the then Soviet Border. Chrissy was an operative for the Brits and Monkey was the main gorilla at NSA. Before they knew it they had conceive a child – a love child from the cold war, hence the name “Killer” Steve. Chrissy had kept the secret from Monkey until just recently when the evil overlord Goliath had taken Steve for his dastardly plan. Monkey and Chrissy had put a stop to it, but not without casualties.

Monkey and Steve arrived under cover of darkness below a moonless night. Dallas, Texas.

Dizzy was pulling into the parking lot of Taco Hell. She stepped out of the Dino like she was stepping off the cat walk, long leg followed by long leg.

The heat had reached over 102 and the humidity was heavy in the air. The parking lot around Taco Hell was vacant except for the 92, taupe Ford Taurus with a "my son is the next Jesus" sicker on the back bumper next to the other sticker that read, Texas, love it or die.

The noon hour fast approached, the sun hung and Mgr. Mooch was just about to close for the “inventory”, or a least that was what the sign on the door said. There was one last customer making a stand against her indecisiveness, under the wave of the Clash put to muzak. She was five foot four inches and her Wiggly's named tag said Wuhu but she looked Hawaian. She wore a sparkely flowered dress with blue and red flowers on a cream background; her hair was black and worn it in a beehive style. The horn rimmed glasses were rimmed in rhinestones and she worn a smile button on her left breast. “I fought the law and the law won …. Accompanied by a string section of the best two week trained synthesizer player to be found. (Pure blasphemy). “Well I just don’t know,” she said in her Mrs. Cravits voice. The encherritos or the soft taco. Mooch saw Dizzy walk past him like a Hollywood starlet walking into the Ritz Carlton. Eyes forward she stopped and stood perfectly still. A slight twitch above her right eye developed. Encherritos, soft taco, encherrito, soft taco …….. I fought the law and the... …… encherrito, soft taco. Mooch opened his mouth to yell in agony when the customer's head exploded. The headless body stood upright for a second before falling to the ground with a dull thud. Dizzy, without expression, whispered sorry about the mess, lets get started, as she slide the iron back into her spot and went into the backroom. The twitch stopped.

The Clash was release from the Taco Hell intercom and Joe Strummer relaxed in his grave. Mooch walked around the counter looked at the customer and said, shoulda gone for the taco, echirritos give you gas. He closed the blinds and turned the lights off and headed to the backroom. As he was heading back he noticed the Dino taking up two spaces and yelled to Dizzy, “what the hell is wrong with you? You rude bitch, you think you own the whole parking lot? Have some common curtesy”

In the backroom Dizzy pulled the disk out of the case and slide it into the computer, the formula for the re-animation potion came up. Mooch, munching on a taco, mumbled, "so where do we get the u-238?" As crumbs fell on his Taco Hell Crew Chief uniform. Dizzy smiled, Mooch became nervous ……….I have to go to the bathroom, Mooch said……..

The backroom of Taco Hell was rather small but well maintained compared with the rest of the establishment. There were posters of Peter Allen on piano, the robot from Metropolis, and Thin Lizzy in Concert. In a small frame was a picture some young musicians with 4/5 size pants, the autograph said "S. A. T. U. R. D. A. Y. to you Mooch BCRollers". In the corner on a shelf was one of those red dipping bird that you put next to a glass of water and it dips into the water by itself and next to that was goldish medal with the symbol of a hockey player on one side and rings on the other side with the year 1984 engraved on it. On the same wall was a small desk. On the opposite wall was an industrial stove (spotless) and four micro-wave ovens. The four micro-wave ovens had really been put to use. On the other wall was the walk in freezer, inside were bags and bags of all sorts of pseudo
Mexican food, ready to be micro-waved. Mooch and Dizzy where by the computer.

The readout called for six ingredients to be blended in a very specific order; five of which Mgr. Mooch had within his possession. The fully developed human brain had been a killer to find in the state, much less this flea bitten cat with a bad leg town. Yet the crucial ingredient, the U-238, was not something one could simply order from the Sear catalog or buy a the locale Piggly Wiggly. Mooch looked at Dizzy and with the aplomb of a French pastry chief said, “O.K. chier la tête, huwhere du we git dat shit!” Dizzy giggled because she knew that father had adopted Mooch from a french maid that had once serviced Goliath’s household. Well I just happen to have the pellet right here. Dizzy reached her hand under her skirt and pulled out a lead lined titanium cylinder about the size of a ....... well never mind - she had the U-238. Mooch quivered inside. Dizzy tossed the container to Mooch, he walked over to the mixing bowl and pour the liquid within the cylinder into the mix. Palming the container, Mooch the rascal that he was, slid the container into his pocket for closer inspection at a later date.

The solution was prepared and poured into a deep dish located on the grill. Light smoke lifted from the greenish solution, much like dry ice. Mooch reached for the jar containing the last piece of the BoomCow. He put on the asbestos gloves and reached into the jar. With the touch of a virgin lover he nervously lifted the meat. It wiggled and it squirmed all the time gently vibrating. Mooch place the “item” into the dish - immediately the re-animation solution started to cover the meat and penetrated it at the same time.. Mooch looked over at Dizzy who until now was busy doing her nails. “Well, how long is this gonna take?” Said Mooch. Dizzy, lifting a single eyebrow, what do I look like a molecular biologist? Oh yeah, well about 5 to 6 minutes.
Time passed, Mooch whistled, Dizzy wondered where she could pick up a pair of Lucky jeans in this quaint town. Mooch began to smell his fingers but Dizzy told him to stop. Dizzy looked down and saw a large bucket and asked Mooch what the bucket was for. Mooch answered that it was for customers that ate too much but wished to continue in tasting the culinary delights of Taco Hell without waiting for the digestion process. Dizzy said, “oh”. In the dish nothing happened.

Mooch slapped his forehead and knocked himself over. Picking himself up he motioned to the boom box and said to Dizzy, “we need music.”...

We find Dizzy and Mooch in the backroom of Taco Hell with the piece of meat that once was the BoomCow, soaking in a strange and not of this world solution.

(piano intro)… on a morning from a full cut moonbeam, in a country where they turn back time…she comes out of the sun …. No movement, as a matter of fact the item seemed to sigh. Mgr. Mooch quickly moved to retrieve the CD and put in another CD. (another piano intro) … six o’clock already and I was just in the middle of a dream, I was kissing Valentino by … Mooch pulled the CD and just said in a very small voice, “sorry, It’s from when I was dating that Catholic High School Teacher.” Mooch looked around when Dizzy stepped over and put in a CD. (bluesy drum and sensual trumpet with strings) … Me and Mrs. Jonesssss. We got a thing, go’in on ….. Mooch was about to complain when he noticed the meat move. It quivered and Mooch quickly turn the volume up and what had been a small piece of interesting meat was growing it was now the size of your head. The song was ending, the meat had grown into a slab, but it needed more “musical vibration”

Mooch looked at Dizzy and said all I got is some AFI and some old Stones, Dizzy said, well it obvious that our little cow likes it smoke’n and blue. Again she reached under her micro mini skirt and came out with several CDs. Mooch said to himself – what the hell else does she have up there? Fingering them she smile and it seemed like her hips did a swivel when she said, “lets play it safe”.

Dizzy tossed a disk to Mooch. He put it into the player and … (whispers: get up, get up, get up…. Lets get down tonight) Baby … let’s get down to night … oh … baby … I need some lovin, baby I cant hold it much longer.. I need sexual healing …. It was like the fourth of July, KY gel finally being found at an orgy, it went BOOM! Legs popped, hooves grew, and a head formed. By the end of the song, the BoomCow had been reborn it jump over the ladle and landed on the floor with a kinda Jimmy Durante tap and tada. It looked at Dizzy and Mooch with hungry eyes.

Mooch, thinking to himself, now how the hell did I get into this – oh yeah it started with that girl and the gin in tonic. Shit. Mooch finished his thought with, Should have stuck with the sloe gin fiz.

Mooch whispered to Dizzy, now what Sherlock. Dizzy, slowly walking toward the BoomCow, held out her hand, The BoomCow smiled a cold and evil grin. Dizzy, without any movement in her lips said, music we need more music before it kills us both. Mooch hit the play button, Mickey your so fine …. The BoomCow jumped and with a Keanu Reeves like move twisted Dizzy into a form that looked like she was about to break her back. The BoomCow had a razor sharp hove next to her throat. Mooch instantly hit the button again and prayed. …. I, I, I, all of my purple life I’ve been looking for a dream … maybe we can make some time …erotic city …. you’re a sinner I don’t care I just want your creamy thighs … its funky percussion had a soothing effect on the BoomCow and the lyrics made it giggle. It seemed to dance lightly on it four hooves, its head raised back with white froth sliding out of its large mouth. Its eye sparkled with glee. Dizzy was quick and commanding, she lead it into the walk-in freezer the Cow gyrated back and forth, grinding against Dizzy. It flickered it tongue and gave Dizzy a really disgusting lick that started at her forehead and ended in her ear.

She got the BoomCow into the freezer just as the song was ending. Mooch looked at her and said, that’s not going to hold him. Dizzy answer the cold will slow his metabolic and redeanalogical reaction for awhile.

It had just occurred to both of them that they had created the monster without creating the cage first.

The sun blistered in Texas as the BoomCow cooled ….

(Contemporaneous with the time period when dizzy was pulling into the parking lot at Taco Hell)

Deep in the earth, inside a fortified facility run by agencies we dare not speak of, done in early stainless with long corridors and bad lighting, our two heroes are equipping themselves for the crisis to come, the despair of destiny, the epitome of the epiphany of time, the ……. Well the long ride into south Texas.

Monkey, looking the middle aged spy dog in the dark McIver glasses, looked at the young, tan, fit and spry Steve in his Lucky jeans and his Mexican sniper tattoos. Steve had that George Hamilton (the young one from Zorro the Gay Blade) smile and vigor. Steve, seeing that look on his father’s face, said to Monkey, “it o.k. pops; everyone get old.” They walked together for a few steps before getting to the door with the sign that read “Private, Keep Out”. As Monkey opened the door and was about to go in followed by Steve, Monkey turned and whispered … so, you still have to use the Viagra? With that Monkey turn and walk into the room. Steve in a stuttering voice said, well it was that whole thing with that friggen cow…. Dad… hey waits a minute…..it’s only once in a while…

The room was large, on the left was a shooting range with tables full of guns in front, to the left were several automobiles lined up … they ranged from the traditional black drug lord suburban to a very smart Ugo in blue. Further down were other tables, each with different technology, gadgets, and other spy stuff…. Monkey, so good to see you, came the voice. Monkey looked at the gentleman in chinos and a white button down broadcloth (maybe 140 count) and oiled Dr. Marten’s on his feet. He recognized the voice but not the man. So where is Q, Monkey queried. Oh, he’s on vacation in Cleveland, said Sgt. Major Ryker. Steve, with a look of disgust said, Cleveland?! Ryker turned and in a calm voice of a proctologist just before he says howdy in sign language, responded: hey, it’s not Texas. Right then, let’s get started. With that Sgt. Major Ryker turned and guided them to the table with the car keys ….. Let’s see…. Hum… looking over at Steve he was about to get the Lambo’s keys but stopped when he looked at Monkey. Ryker reached to the upper row of keys and pulled out a key with a star. Looking at Monkey, Ryker said, not all things get old, right aye? With that Ryker threw the key to Monkey – It was a 70’ Cuda 426 Hemi with four on the Hurst and a black ragtop. She was a lime green bag of chips and more. Monkey’s stretched mouth surrounded two rows of shiny white teeth. He hadn’t been this happy since he nailed Ms. Sobolski in gym class his Jr. year at Drake. Steve looked at Ryker (pregnant pause of disbelief) and said, and what about me. Ryker said, just make sure you hang on. Now, you’ve got your service pieces, right. Steve was about to answer when Ryker said that wasn’t a question. Please listen for the inflection at the end of the sentence. You did go to basic training, looking at Steve? …….. Well? That was a question. Oh, never mind. (Ryker muttered, wanker under his breath) Monkey was already behind the wheel. The American big iron was coming to life. (Wow the tires even had the raised white letters)

Somehow the cockiness that Steve walked in with was now just a limp balloon. Monkey and Steve roared south with the wind in their hair and possibilities still possible. On the radio…you could hear… ooo black Betty… bam a lam … ooo black Betty bam a lam…..

It was going to be a 4 hour drive and Steven and Monkey had left early in the morning. The sun was coming up out of the Gulf, the mist carrried and held the scents of the world in the air as they passed through Monkey and Steve\'s hair. Monkey closed his eyes behind in dark sunglasses. Steve, sporting his new gargoyals kept his eyes on the road. You could smell the fishermen and their catch just on the shore, the V-8 purcussion provided background music as the convertable rambled down the highway. Steve reached for the radio, .... it is the sinner that repents that will be saved.... crackel, zip, buzz, ... Down on the corner .... zip .... humidity expected to reach ...zummm.... Dr. Jazz, Dr. Jazz you make my jelly roll..., Goddamit, yelled Monkey, pick a station and leave it there. Steve, rolled his eyes and under his breath said, sorry I can\'t find Mel Tormey you old fart. Clicking to a station Steve heard, ... I really don\'t mind if you sit this one out..., the flute had a light yet haunting quality and Steve left it there.

So when we get there, what are we going to do if they got that thing re-animated asked Steve. That\'s not the question, answered Monkey. What they don\'t know is if the BoomCow is reborn it will look for nurishment. Nurishment? What kind of nurishment said Steve. I don\'t remember anything in the briefing about that. You remember Dr. Ziplock and that half human assistant, I think they called him the Donger, you know because he... well never mind. Well do remember he was a fugitive, a serial murderer. Well the reason he murdered all those people was the reainimation solution that Dr. Ziplock originally tested on him. You see, the Donger was a corpse before Dr. Ziplock got ahold of him. Steve, remembering a little about the case said, didn\'t he have this thing about eating the ... Monkey answering before Steve could finish, yeah, makes me sick just to think about it. Well the BoomCow is going to have that same craving.

A Commercial came on ... Yahoo the best dam chocolate drink made by small gnomes in the hills of Texas.. Steve looked over at Monkey and began to speak... I know that we\'ve never been close but I ....

Two spys on a mission, one old, one young, one a son but not of the other one.

Crossing the bridge in Corpus Christi, the hemi sound lean and mean as it ate up the sticky back tarmac. As Steven and Monkey cross the bridge the rubber of the tires made a slightly metallic noise as they rode over the open steel mesh that made up the floor of the bridge. The heat was rising as was the humidity of the Gulf. From the radio, poignant southern fried rock played … Turn it up. Big wheels keep on turning. Carry me home to see my kin. Singing songs about the southland … Steve looked at Monkey and asked; ever notice how we don’t really look alike? … Does your conscious bother you? Sweet home Alabama, where the skies are so blue… I mean, I’m very fair skinned and tall and you’re, well … not so tall and not so fair skinned. Monkey seemed a little uncomfortable. I must take after mom, Steven ended. Uh, yeah, you look like your mother. But you did get certain traits from me. Monkey smiled in a desperate attempt to change the mood and topic. Monkey withdrew the small vile from the metallic case and handed it to Steve. When we get there we will need to drink this, but not before – it only lasts 30 minutes or so Sgt. Major Ryker said. Steve took the vile, “god I hate this stuff, it tastes like barium.”

A new song was starting, somewhat of a raspy voice and guitar… A little too tall could have used a few pounds … she was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes and points on her own sit’n way up high …. Way up firm and high … Monkey reached over and changed the station. A nice string quartet could be heard over the howl of the wind. What are you nuts, asked Steve. Steve reached over to the Delco and turn the right knob, … The two things in life that make it worth living is guitars tuned good and firm feeling women…. Naw to twangy, said Steve… I feel more like … a little (continuing to turn the knob)……Blame it all on my roots. I showed up in boots ….. The last one to know … the last one to show… I saw the surprise…, now that’s the song I’m looking for, said Steve …I toasted you ….I’ve got friends in low places, where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues…. Steve loved this song and sang it at the top of his lungs. Monkey, looked over at Steve and said wow, she did a number on you didn’t she? It was over a year ago Steve, said Monkey. Only married two weeks and you still hurt. I told you she was just bad news wrapped in tight Italian leather and smelly French perfume. I just can’t believe you guys went straight to your room after the ceremony, people wanted to see you. You stayed at the Ritz overlooking the Place Vendome and for two weeks never came out. Then she leaves you. Steve just looked at the coast line and whispered her name. Dizzy, his voice ending with a sigh. As Steve's breath left his mouth a tune started...(layers and layers of voices).. I'm not in love ...

They had pulled into the parking lot at Taco Hell, there was the yellow Ferrarri that Dizzy drove. Steve pulled the hemi around behind a tree, Monkey was inserting rounds into the backup clips. Steve looked at the Ferrarri and stepped through time to a happier place or so it had seemed then....

(Flash back)

The silky lights provided illumination around the Champ Elysees; a heavenly glow lived in the air around. They had moved and breathed in a funnel cloud, a tornado provided the medium for Steve and Dizzy’s existence these last few days. The days were spent on foot wearing espadrilles, walking from the “Chiner” in Marche aux Puces to Ponte nuef and through the Alexandre III bridge across the Seine to the dark erotic clubs like the subliminal events a Amnesia to jazz at Le Tennessee. It was like a carnival where you can eat all the cotton candy you wanted with no repercussions.

The time in between was spent in contortions of sweat and sound covered in silk sheets. An empty case and a half of KY gel laid in the corner. Room service was rote, the hotel staff started a pool as to how many neighboring guest would need to be moved due to the spirits and their moans. A lot of ice cream and cherries had been consumed by room 4567.

At the time, Dizzy worked for a bank and Steve was a paper back novelist or so they said. Except that Dizzy’s boss or the head banker was Admiral Robert Igman and Steve’s handler was , his father Monkey or his editor as he would sometimes introduce him.

At some point in that blink in time a pebble fell into the mix. Goliath was also in Paris and he had his eye on Dizzy for a very long time and now he had her parents in his control. The offer was simple, “work for me and I will keep them alive. On the ninth day of her honeymoon Dizzy turned; she turned dark.

(Present)
The car shut off, there was a silence that felt like the first light drops of rain, at first it was light and relieving then the deluge came. Steve and Monkey made their was to Taco Hell and from a time and place not here Fate turned its glaze to four humans and a cow.............

In the freezer the BoomCow's metabolism was starting to slow down, the sweet music ... just drink your big black cow and get out of here ... still played in its head. It wanted to dance; it's hoves were light and clicked on the steel floor, it's udder tingled and magical sparks danced in its eyes. Soothing, the music was water to its flaming desire to see limbs pop from sockets, chunks of ripped flesh slide down the wall, and blood splattering in a seemingly random but set pattern slowing leaving a river of red to roll in and later lick clean. Happy thoughts.

The BoomCow noticed that even in Taco Hell they had meat in the freezer; he wondered if it was real. If it was, it could possibly re-animate it with the dripping of udder juices containing his new re-animated infused blood. Oh this could make for a real smack down, it thought.

The freezer was cold, much like Dizzy's heart, but the desire for carnage in the BoomCow's heart was hot like the Texas sun at noon. Guns loaded, nerves frayed, the scales of balace were slowing tipping into despair.

…So this is where he came to hide …When he ran from you…In a private detective’s overcoat…And dirty dead man’s shoes” The lyrics from an old song rang in Steve’s ear. Moving through the mid-day air was like swimming in jello. How people could live here was beyond comprehesion, thought Steve. Giving it a second thought, Steve came to the conclusion, Must all be Chiken farmers – they deserve it.

Monkey was all business, he had equipped himself with dual .45\'s (old school but effective) – not all that accurate at long range but his business was of the intimate kind. After the hospital it had become very personal. He would be dancing with the devil in the moonlight this day.

The Jacarandas littered the sky with touches of blue, from cobalt to french azure, and as the drops of color came to rest on the void of teh tarmac the art display became illusory and the heat of the day struck the life out of the petals; much like it did everything else under its gaze. It was the wind that was the artist and the trees merely supplied the pigment for the sky. Yet like most beauty it was temporary in reality yet eternal in memory.

A shot rang … one… only one… no random act, no missed opportunity – It was deliberation and finality. A professional had spoken. From the distance, Monkey could see a male close the binds and place the closed sign on the door. Steve and Monkey exchanged a look, it was a short one without words yet the parasite of dread was shared, both knew; maybe they knew all along, it was with reasonable certainly that not both would survive to have a cold Pearl tonight.

Inside the Taco hell, a slightly warm body laid spilling its essence onto cheep linoleum tiles; black and white. Mooch enjoyed the deco thang even if Baus Haus was more sublime. Ms. Wuhu, had been a kindly, if misunderstood, lady, one of some education and some years ago, of some potential but too many Beefeater lunches had spoiled her appetite, her synapse and in the end her marriage. Her only respite from the counter at that Piggly Wiggly was her weekly visit to the Taco Hell in the hopes of catching that new Crew Chiefs\' eye. Yet, that never happened; in the end she wondered if he just didn’t have the right equipment. Well she would wonder no more. At the very least, in the end, she matched; the blood of her forehead was lost as it dripped on her, thickly applied, red lip stick. Oddly enough, the splash of red gave life to the joint.

Monkey pulled out the knob on his watch, a high intensity beam cut into the lower panel of one of the glass walls of the Taco Hell; and to think that the scientist who invented this got it from a movie about some chap named Flint. Will wonders never cease Monkey thought? A light rat-tat-tat and the glass fell into Monkey’s outstretched hand. Steve, watching Monkey work, was squatting behind him holding his government issue. Drops of sweat traveled the length of the gun butt to the pavement. Looking at the sweat drip, Steve could hear … And it’s the damage that we do…And never know…It’s the words that we don’t say…That scared me so… Shit, shit, he yelled in his head. Stop. I’ve got to stop. If she is in here I will put her down like a bad joke, like a bad joke. Monkey and Steven crawled into Taco Hell.

In Hell, the flames of passion would either burn or kill. In the freezer a vibrating energy was just hitting its pitch. In the back room a young leggy woman leaned against the wall in a daydream….There’s a smart young woman on a light blue screen…Who comes into my house every night…And she takes all the red, yellow, orange and green…And she turns them into black and white…But you tease, and you flirt…And you shine all the buttons on your green shirt…You can please yourself but somebody’s gonna get it…

Indeed somebody’s gonna get it.

Inside of the backroom of Taco Hell Dizzy and Mooch leaned against a desk and wall staring at each other; from Mooch’s boombox you could hear…. (Background conversation over heavy bass)… The name is Yoshimi…she is a black belt in karate…working of the city…she has to discipline her body…cause she know that its demanding…to defeat those evil machines…. O.K. so how in the hell to we get this thing out of the freezer without killing ourselves, spat out Mooch. This is fucking great. How could you not know this was going to happen? Were you not briefed? Dizzy’s eyes reflecting the match fire she used to light her stogie, said in a flat mono-tone voice, and without looking up, listen Mr. Crew Chief for the gastronomically impaired. I just save you skinny, not even Tiny from State Pen would want, ass. So shut the fuck up and look for some music that we can use. I’ll call for the transport.

Mooch opened a drawer and saw various CD’s: Llama land by Beck; Evil Parrot by J. Buffet; Sempri Fi by Sgt. Rock and the Gunners (I must have been drunk on that one); Sesame Street’s Best by Tickle me Elmo and the Revolutions; The Hep Sounds of Sammie One and the Sinners; and last but not least was a bootleg of Jose Jose singing Gavilan o Paloma. Mooch just held his head and softly said to himself we are going to die. He reached for the Gin.

Dizzy was on her micro cell, it was so micro you would have never known she was on the phone except that she kept touching her ear and talking. O.K. confirm, transport in 25 minutes, mark. She finished the conversation with and we need some music, yeah that right music. Preferably some funky stuff maybe even disco. Out. Reaching under her skirt once more Dizzy pulled out a mini player and three discs, maybe we can use these, she said looking at a distraught Mooch. Looking down the homemade titles they read: Love songs of the Ages by Mr. Very Berry White; Marvin Gaye and Motown; Funky Disco 1.

Inside the freezer the movements of the BoomCow were beginning to slow, its dancing hooves were quite; yet the three gigawatt spark in its eyes was still very bright. Sounds of …do a little dance… make a little love… get down tonight, played in its unnatural and abie-normal brain. It slid its tongue over it head in an-ti-ci-…………………..pation. He could almost taste it.

In the lobby of the Taco Hell, with flies starting to hover over the dead body, Monkey and Steve began their move toward the back door. Monkey somehow knew this would be his last hurrah. Releasing the safeties and Steve pulling out a conc grenade they sprang for the door.

In the sky, unseen because of the daylight, two comets were coming to the end of a long journey in minutes there would be obliteration. And yet out of distruction there is always a new beginning.

Mooch, next to the industrial stove, was looking at the freezer door yet was living on one of the lower levels of hell at the moment. Curiously he still had his gin. A warm stream slid down his throat. Dizzy was opposite him, by the computer desk. To her left was the freezer. The tapping from within had subsided and she was taking a hit off the stogie. I need to give these up, she thought; they’re gonna be the end of me. Interestingly enough, Dizzy had pulled out an old Mac-10 that she had, along with other things, on her thigh holster. She pulled the clip and slammed it back in, pulling back on the primer. Arighty then, we have transport coming; all we gotta do is sit back and wait this little dance is almost over. Mooch looked at her in disbelief and asked, so how many things you got up …. Ummm… there? Dizzy, smiled. It was then that Mooch realized how Dizzy got her name.

After looking for a CD and not finding one, Mooch switched the boombox to FM and picked up what must have been a college station. Mooch smiled in acknowledgement of the song as gin rolled from the corner of his lip to land on his Steve Madden’s. Oh hey I like this song ….I wanna get free… I’m gonna get free, I’m gonna get free… ride into the sun… she never loved me, she never loved me… Mooch closed his eyes and began to bop to the highschool rock star suffle with the bottle of gin resting in his crotch.

Dizzy looked at Mooch, looked at the picture and the poster on the wall and back at the radio and smiled as she shook her head slowly. Ignorance…what a lovely word.

The door swung with such force from Monkey’s impact that it snapped at the hinges, the posters of Peter Allen and Thin Lizzy both fell off the wall and onto the greasy floor. Miraculously, the Bay City Rollers autographed photo remained; no accounting for taste. Simultaneously, Steve tossed the conc grenade and swung into the doorway unloading at a figure as it flew through the air. One of the stray bullets hit the Freon line to the freezer and the other hit the lock pin. Not that anyone noticed. Yet.

Monkey drove for the floor and had already discharged 2 rounds from his twin .45’s before hitting the floor in a perfect tuck and roll. The first caught Mooch’s gin bottle as he had it between his legs and the second caught Mooch in the thigh. Mooch reached for his gun as he went down behind the prep table.

Dizzy, like a cat, brought her Mac-10 up, thug style, and began to spray the entry as she dove, little Nikita style, onto the otherside of the large stainless prep table.

Apparently, the conc grenade was a dud.

Monkey came up at the end of the prep table on one knee with both .45’s looking for a client and dropped Mooch with two to what had been his forehead and began to attempt the impossible turn toward Dizzy. Mooch’s body just slumped the gun in his hand never went off. Monkey got one shot off, but it was early and hit Dizzy in the shoulder. In reply Monkey took four to the chest from Dizzy as she wiped around and duck behind the desk.

Steve was out of position and fired three rounds at Dizzy but all hit pans and pots in between. Steve saw Monkey down and was about to rush when a spray of bullet ripped into the door frame around him with two catching his upper vest and left arm. Damn she was good. Steve slide back behind the door. Nowhere for her to go, just drop another nade; Steve felt for the second nade, but nothing was there. The heat from the round in his arm burned. Steve drew a breath and yelled, come out now and I promise you won’t be hurt.

Dizzy heard the voice……………..Steve? Steve's pupils enlarged. A second later, his grip on the gun tighten.

Inside the freezer things where warming up…….bump bump bump the base of the song went…..Burn baby burn, burn baby burn, burn baby burn… to my surprise, 100 stories high people get’n loose you-all… The BoomCow was coming back to life. It slammed its molars in rhythm to the Tramps in its head. Stars and sparkles swirled in its eyes. Oh, baby he was gonna have some fun tonight.

The song on the radio ended and another started, not that anyone noticed. ... there's a place for us...

There's a place for us…Somewhere a place for us…

Dizzy reached under her ever mystifying skirt for some sterile gaze. She stuffed it into the shoulder wound and popped her clip; 8 rounds. She reached around for her backup, a PPK on her waistband in the small of her back. Check the clip, lock and load. She bent down and took of swig of Mooch's gin. Not bad, she thought but I wish I had some grapa instead.

Steve, I know that’s you. Just walk away Steve. I’ve got backup and I can’t protect you if you stay, just walk away.

There's a time for us…Some day a time for us…

Steve’s grip on his gun was turning his hand white. Time was loud and each second thundered, “ I said I wouldn’t let this effect me. Just breath.” (pause) Dizzy, if you drop your gun and come with me I swear I will do everything I can, just please come out.”

Time together…With time to spare…Time to look…Time to care…Someday,
Somewhere

Dizzy responded, “Steve, I don’t care about jail; it was never about that. If I go with you I will kill the two people that I love” “Oh, like the way you left me for dead in Paris?” Snipped Steve. Dizzy felt a pain she had not felt a in a long time, a tear ran down her cheek. Steve we are two different people; it would have never worked out – you like baseball, I like soccer. You like beef Wellington, I like sushi. You wear Levi’s, I wear Lucky. You think the three stooges are funny, for me it’s Rocky Horror. In a sentence, you drive Buick and I drive Alfa Romeo. Steve, we had Paris……….. now go.

We'll find a new way of living… We'll find a way of forgiving…Somewhere

Steve was hurt and angry. He stood up straight and stepped into the doorway – “O.K. then finish the job. Steve, with his gun at his side, stepped into the back room – a picture out of the macabre was painted before him. His father or at least the only man he know as his father laid dead, his wife had put a bullet in him and the evil still unrealized was just feet away; and by the sound of it, it was starting to stir. Dizzy stepped from the side, Mac-10 at the horizontal aimed, oddly enough, at his heart. Steve, leave now or I will kill you, said Dizzy in almost a whisper. Yet Steve saw something in her eyes that he had seen before and knew he would not die this day, or at least not by her hand. Steve stepped closer, Dizzy pressed the muzzle into his chest. Steve could hear the hammer move.

On the radio a new song started: (nice acoustic guitar intro… A love struck Romeo, sings a streets a serenade… laying everybody low with a love song that he made…fids a streetlight steps out of the shade.. says something like you and me babe… how about it?

Steve said, I would gladly die for you now as I would have then – don’t say you didn’t feel it. It was on your tongue, in your breath as we held each other and whispered our dreams from behind glasses of champagne, naked, in the Paris mornings. It was in your touch as our hands brushed as we walked side by side. In your grip as you pulled me back into our bed. Your eyes give you away. Your heart belongs to me, as mine to you – I dream of walking with you when we are old and gray.

Steve never heard the explosion that sent the slug through his heart. As he lied there in the moment before death, Dizzy said in a dry tone –I'm not that girl now.

The BoomCow felt a sense that a kindred spirit was stepping into the existence he now lived in.

Dizzy looked around and saw Steve dead, Monkey dead, Mooch dead. There were possibilities here. She finished dressing the wound and took off her bloodied top, reaching under her skirt she pulled out a simple, high count, white cotton shirt. She slipped it on, rolled up the sleeves and tied it off mid-drift. She pulled her hair back, black and smooth like a raven's feathers, and placed it in a tail.

On the radio, Jim Morrison could be singing… This is the end…this is the end my friend...

She packed up the serum into a small temperature controlled case and walked out to the car. As she walked out to place she placed the container in the ground, she felt the first warm drops of a Gulf rain. Somehow she felt cleaner. The unseen blood disapear from her finger tips. She could see the transport team coming into the lot. Only a few hours had passed but the bright hot skies of mid day Texas could be seen changing into a moody afternoon rainstorm coming in off the Gulf; there was sweetness in the air. She sighed as she waved down the truck knowing that there was more to do. The parking lot between Taco Hell and Piggly Wiggly was abandon, yet there was still traffic on the street. She walked toward the transport team and waived them to the back of Taco Hell.

The raindrops were becoming larger, like Farrah’s fine points o so many years ago. The Hemi was lost in the humid change, under the tree with no one to raise its top. It was a sight to bring a tear to your eye.

The truck backed up to the rear of the Taco Hell. Walking, with a slight run way bounce, Dizzy walked up the passenger side of the truck as one of the transport team in his black trousers, black jacket and dark wayfarers step down with a smile. He was dead before his toes touched the sidewalk. I believe Dizzy liked to refer to it as a Sicilian necktie. As Dizzy walked around the front of the truck the driver was turning the machine off; in Dizzy’s left hand dripped a barber’s razor. The blood dripped on the ground by her moving feet and disappeared in the rain. As Dizzy came to the driver’s door, the driver smiled the smile of an knowing imbecile before fate slapped him silly. Without a hesitation, Dizzy sliced through his cerotic artery and left him there speechless to experience his death. The razor fell at his feet. There was no time for disposing of the bodies, Dizzy went back into the Taco Hell; soaked in the warm rain she was beginning to fell cold.

Stepping into the backroom she could already hear the BoomCow moving, it sounded like the staccato of a m-42. The radio had moved on… Bye Bye love, bye bye happiness… I think I’m gonna die… bye bye my life good bye…

Dizzy approached the freezer door. The hiss of the ruptured line could be heard, at least Dizzy thought it was the freon line. She opened the door, a large tongue swung out and licked her face. Dizzy pulled her phone out and flipped it open - it's a go. We are clear, meet you in 2 hours. Oh, and Korben have a bottle of GlenLivet waiting. There was a chuckle on the other end. It pays to know a bartender sometimes, Dizzy thought to herself.

Outside the skies were turning dark and lighting crackled in the distance, with the warmth of the rain also came wind – a cold wind.

Italy, a beautiful morning with promise. Water flowed in the street from the women that washed the sidewalk, clothes were being hung on the line. Korben hung up the phone, from his balcony he could see the roof tops of Venice; as he sipped the espresso he opened the Glen Livet and poured two fingers. Korben raised the glass and uttered, to Dizzy, my sweet companion your taste is like a peach on a long ocean voyage. Return to me, return to me.

In a large complex underground in Texas men moved with conviction and purpose. Uniforms were everywhere but those that did not wear them were the ones in charge. The trackers show no signal sir; heartbeat is nill and brain activity is flat. Sgt. Major Ryker paused for a moment. Ok we have to assume they are dead and that they didn't complete the mission. Ryker turned and made his way to the armoury. He could be heard saying, "I've got fish to fry" as he left the room.

Dizzy started the van, in the back a large bovine was doing a line dance - the electric slide.

It is here that we leave our characters to another day.

...a kiss just a kiss, a sigh is but a sigh...
as time goes by...