Nap and the Mammoth Undertaking (part 4)
Later that night a large man in a white lab coat approached Hans von Oofnik. Before he could speak Hans spoke; “I trust you have the name and address of the man that broke into Martin’s locker?”
“Better. He’s back. He just entered the facility and I have my best men ready to grab him when he goes into the Sesame Street lot.”
“Tell them not to engage. Just make sure he doesn’t leave before Martin arrives. It’s time we take care of this mystery man.” He then let rip with his best diabolical laugh. He’d been working on it for quite some time and felt it was an opportune time to debut it. He glanced over to the large man in the white lab coat to gauge how it had gone over.
The man was smiling, his head slowly bobbing up and down in appreciation.
“Nice” Hans thought to himself, his head slowly bobbing up and down for being appreciated. All the hard work and hours in front of the mirror paying off handsomely.
“Maybe nobody is going to show” thought Nap as he made his way down Sesame Street. The hairs on the back of his neck told him otherwise. As if to accelerate the proceedings Nap began to whistle the Sesame Street theme. He walked unmolested to the dressing room and placed the book back into the locker. As he strolled back into the area where they kept the larger puppets he began to casually knock things over, each bang and crash getting progressively louder.
Back on Sesame Street a large shadow began to make its way towards him. Nap felt the heavy footsteps before he even turned the corner. He reached for the gun he didn’t have and then froze. Listening and looking around for something to use as a weapon as he already understood that what was coming wasn’t someone he could disarm or disable.
The heavy breathing was getting closer and Nap was relieved to find a sword and shield leaning against what appeared to be a knight costume. “That’s convenient.”
He scooped up the former and walked to the middle of the street.
That’s when he met Martin.
What was making its way towards him stood nine feet tall, more mammoth than man. Standing on two legs and covered in thick brown fur, it sported two massive (I almost said mammoth) curved tusks and a long trunk. Its feet were round like an elephant and the hands consisted of two large fingers fused together. It radiated anger, as if its very existence was cause for violence.
It was at this moment that Nap realized that the sword that he held was made of rubber.
The man in Belize who typically occupied the unnecessarily shadowy office in Washington D.C. grudgingly finished packing his suitcase and called down to the front desk to arrange transport to the airport. His vacation was almost over and the next morning it was time to return home.
There were no screeching kids running around hotel room nor was there a nagging wife looking to discuss what odd jobs needed to be started around the house upon their return.
Instead there was only the bottle of The Macallan in Lalique 65 Years Old single malt scotch whisky sitting on the bar next to four glasses.
Then came a light knock on the door. He smiled. “What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.” He softly articulated the mantra that, for better or worse, kept both his oars in the water.
The hookers were right on schedule.
“Ok big boy, time to dance” said Nap Lapkin through clenched teeth.
His earpiece sprang to life. “Dance? Are you thinking of fighting this monstrosity with a sword?” asked Madonna. She was hurrying along a catwalk high above the street, clutching her trusty M27 Infantry Automatic Rifle.
“Funny thing actually, the sword is made of rubber. I was hoping it might scare off this thing.”
Madonna laughed. “It doesn’t appear scared. In fact…” and with that the creature roared and rushed Nap, its huge tusks slashing back and forth.
Nap rolled to his left and narrowly avoided getting gored, briefly taken aback by the ferocity of the attack. Then he felt something grab his ankle.
It was the monster’s trunk.
“Holy shit” he exclaimed, “this thing is a handful.”
“Disengage” shouted Madonna, “I can take him down. Get out of my shot Lapkin.”
“I can’t do that” and then he sent a flurry of punches in the direction of the beast’s mid-section, none of which seemed to have any effect whatsoever.
The beast swung its tusks again and then stomped a huge foot down, narrowly missing Nap’s head. In order to dodge the foot he opened himself up to the returning tusks and one of them seemed to have a rather nasty effect whatsoever.
He went flying.
“Nap, are you ok?” asked Madonna, readying her rifle.
“Of course” he replied, rather unconvincingly. He sprung to his feet, pivoted sharply, got behind the monster and launched himself. He attempted to wrap his arms around its neck, his feet at least three feet off the ground. After a few seconds of hanging there he said “It doesn’t appear to have a neck per se. Not ideal.”
With that the beast roared and began to spin around wildly. Nap stayed with it for a few spins but then reached an unspoken agreement with centrifugal force to depart the animal and go flying off in a random direction. Thankfully a brick wall was there to cushion his landing. The beast let out a triumphant snort to confirm that it felt it was time for the trampling to commence.
Cue the gunfire.
Short bursts that caused the monster to roar again and look around wildly, trying to find the source. When it realized that it was beyond its ability to reach it turned and stomped away. The growling and sounds of crashing and chaos slowly receding into the distance.
“Nap” screamed Madonna, louder and more panicked than she’d intended (The only thing keeping me from using an exclamation point being that many veteran writers advise against it. But if you read it as “Nap!” it’s completely understandable). She sprinted along the catwalk until she finally found a way down to street level.
When she finally reached Nap he wasn’t moving. Out of respect for how out of character it was for her and the embarrassment she later felt for the next few minutes I won’t go into too many details about how she behaved and what she said, suffice to say there was some concern shown for Nap’s condition, the world ‘please’ was uttered a few times and even a few bargains offered up to any deities that might have been in attendance.
Finally Nap stirred.
“Oh thank goodness. What the fuck were you thinking Lapkin? You and your male pride. Always with the ego. Why the fuck would you try to fight that thing? You should have been killed” Madonna rambled.
It took awhile but eventually Nap was able to reply; “I had to get close enough to plant the tracker on it.”
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