The Nap Lapkin Trilogy – Part 2: The Escape Goat
(The first appearance of the iconic super-spy Nap Lapkin. Originally posted 2/15/2013)
It was obvious to everyone concerned that they were getting nowhere with the prisoner. In fact, if you were to ask some of them off the record to even call him a prisoner was a gross mischaracterization. They would have told you he was a victim of fate or even a cruel joke. But that was off the record. On the record he was a tough guy who wouldn’t tell them what they needed to know. Even still, there were people at the even highest places in the government that would have been shocked at who sat behind the wheel of the dark blue 1978 Le Mans that was now pulling into the detention facility that officially didn’t exist and therefore couldn’t have a name.
Nap Lapkin turned off the engine and began to compose himself. Why he insisted on listening to his mix-tape of David Bowie and Annie Lennox doing Under Pressure live at Wembley before a big meeting with his handlers he didn’t know, but here he was all choked up.
“Shit! Nap is here.” The guards looked at each other and watched as the minutes ticked by and there was no movement in the Le Mans.
“Nap fucking Lapkin… right here at our little base.” A smile crept across the rugged features of the taller of the two men.
“You’d better wipe that smile off your face before he does it for you.”
The smile evaporated as if it were never there.
Nap climbed out of the car and made his way to the side door. He pressed his thumb against the small pad and he heard the lock mechanism click. He had no idea where he was going but there wasn’t a door in America that didn’t jump to attention when it got a whiff of his fingerprints. He gave the door a push and slipped inside a brightly lit corridor with two large men standing on either side of a small desk.
“Sign here Mr. Lapkin.” He slid over a large book that would have looked more at home at a bad Midwest wedding and tried to hide his eyes, which screamed “Holy fuck, it’s Lapkin right here in front of me!”
The same Nap Lapkin that once broke into a zoo and stole a tiger only to slip back in with it and deposit it in with the zebras after he had the orange stripes genetically altered to appear white. Just to watch the confused look on the people’s faces as it massacred the whole herd. It cost a fortune and had jack to do with nation security but there wasn’t an accountant inside the government who had the stones to reject an expense report from Nap Lapkin.
He walked down the hallway and made his way to an unmarked door. Behind the door was a set of stairs that led down. He cursed himself for watching the ending of Armageddon last night because it was all he could think about. The way Bruce Willis gave his life for everyone on Earth… he leaned on the handrail for a moment to collect himself.
Soon after he had arrived a car driven by Madonna Axion roared into the parking lot and slid clumsily into a handicap spot. Out jumped Madonna, an Amazon of a woman with bright red hair and curves that would make mountain climber dizzy. She ran as fast and as gracefully as a woman in five inch heels could and quickly made for the same door that had recently given entrance to Nap.
“Is he here?!” she barked at the two guards.
Finally one of them, neither was sure which after the fact, was able to inquire “Who?”
“Lapkin! Is that his piece of shit Le Mans I see out there?”
“Yes Maam. He arrived a few minutes ago.”
“Damnit to hell!” she roared in a way that made it clear that Nap Lapkin had had her more than once and left her without a second thought.
The two men waited until she was headed down the stairs in pursuit of Nap before they allowed themselves to whistle and giggle like school boys.
Six stories below the enraged Ms. Axion… “Lapkin. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for days”.
“Sorry General, was getting a little rest and relaxation. After the little incident with the spider-milk goats I’d say I earned it.”
The General grunted almost imperceptibly while Nap looked through the two-way mirror at the man slumped in the metal chair.
“That our boy?”
Without waiting for an answer he walked in to find out why this fellow insisted on littering other planets with his picture.
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