Here’s Dick – Chapter 11
Richard Pennisman is locked up for selling the secret Coca-Cola recipe to North Korean rocket scientists. But Richard Pennisman doesn’t plan on staying locked up for long.
Chapter Eleven – The Showdown
Guard Harry Schette is steering a Macon State Prison van across the border into Northeast Mexico with guard Ricky Faulk in the passenger seat. Bumps Blackwell, White Justice gang leader Clemp Mackley and three other prisoners are seated in the back.
Ricky shakes his head. “Can’t believe the warden signed off on this. Sending a team of prisoners to collect another group of prisoners. She must have a real hard-on for Penis Man.”
Bumps elbows Clemp. “We should call ourselves The C-Team. The ‘C’ is for ‘cons’.”
Clemp glances at the jailyard bully racistly. “Don’t touch me, nigg–“
“Hey!” Harry yells into the rear-view mirror as he steers down the gravelly, dusty Mexican highway. “Stop being problematic back there.”
Clemp sneers. “Only reason I agreed to this mission is the excuse to go on a good old-fashioned coon hunt. And I’ve always wanted to visit Wetback Country.”
Harry smacks the steering wheel. “Problematic!”
Bumps shakes his head. “How can you be this racist twenty-four hours a day, Mackley? Doesn’t it just get exhausting?”
“It is–” Clemp sighs wearily and stares out the window at the red desert racing past. “–it is very exhausting.”
“Please, take me instead!”
Enos Pennisman is tied and bound, kneeling next to his brother Dick, Dick’s cellmate Chit Hayes and Chit & Dick’s co-conspirator Johnnie Maraschino.
North Korean agent Harry Pol is standing over the four with a pistol cocked on a deserted airport runway. “It is not you we want, truck driver. You are not the one who killed millions by selling us a false Coca-Cola secret formula.”
“That death toll keeps going up,” Chit remarks. “Y’all notice that?”
Dick sputters, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Nobody told you to put the secret Coca-Cola formula in a nuclear bomb! Who would put a soda ingredient in a nuke!”
Pol lowers his pistol. “Coca-Cola is very bad for you. High fructose corn syrup kills thousands of Americans every day. The Supreme Leader reasoned that such a murderous formula could only accelerate the killing power of Korea’s Great Bomb.”
Chit scoffs, “Y’all only had the one bomb?”
Pol fires a shot into the air. “Silence!”
Dick sniffs a booger back into his nostril and inches forward on his knees, hands tied behind his back. “Please. Let my friends go. Just take me.”
“Believe me Penis Man, we will take you. Take you all the way to Pyongyang to stand trial for your crimes.”
FBI Agents Winfield & Hauser storm across the desert, guns drawn “Let the prisoners go.”
Pol smiles. “We are not on American soil, you fools. Are you willing to risk an international incident for a mere criminal?”
Agent Hauser glances at Agent Winfield, who shrugs. “Guess we didn’t think this through.”
Vito Petrocelli and his boys plug bullets in the FBI agents’ backs and they drop to the desert sands. Petrocelli swaggers past their prone bodies. “I, on the other hand, do not care much for instigating international incidents. We’ll just be taking Maraschino. You can have the rest, Ping Pong.”
Pol shrugs and Vito’s number two drags Johnnie back to the Paisano’s Italian Bakery van, screaming.
Pol turns to his men. “Eliminate the fat one and the truck driver. Put Penis Man on the plane.”
“No!” Dick shrieks.
On a distant hill, Bumps looks through binoculars at the unfolding scene, before handing the binoculars back to Harry. “Time to tool up, fellas.”
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