Danger / Deer
I’ve been fighting this giant flying deer for like 48 hours straight and I am sick of it.
I don’t even know which of my various nemeses cooked this thing up in which subterranean laboratory. I’m thinking maybe Doctor Nice, although the last monster he built had way too many heads and mostly just sat there confused and crying. It pretty much broke my heart to kick the thing in the faces and ship it off to Diego for analysis. (“Eet ees like Meetallica says, señor: a theeng that should not be.”)
Anyway point being I don’t have tons of—holy god that bitch just hoofed me right in the chops..!
OK enough. I’ve been holding back because the deer is so goddamn cute but now I’ve got a bloody nose and I’m exhausted and just want to get back to my hideout and unwind with some warm gin, maybe put the new Sade on the hi-fi, watch Rocky 2 with the sound off, lose the pants, dim th—gah he got me in my lower back I’ve had problems with that for years..!
I go into the unhappy sloth defensive stance (putting some peppers in the gumbo by extending my left knee an extra inch) and manage to jab him in his heart or kidney or whatever deers have there.
That throws him off his game long enough for me to do that move where I shake my hips and my brass knuckles go flying out of my pocket and right onto my hand. Nice. I usually only do that when there’s a stone cold fox nearby watching the action but whatever, I practiced that shit for weeks and I’m going to put it to work.
I clock the deer in his giant mutant ear hard enough to disorient him and then kick his giant mutant legs out from under him. He starts flapping his giant mutant wings but I do an old-school moonsault leg drop and this donnybrook is all wrapped up.
“Who sent you?” I yell.
And the deer wheezes out a scornful laugh and says: “Yo mama.”
I’m about to treat him to a second verse of chin music but then realize he’s not giving me sass-mouth. How could I have been so blind? This is totally my mother’s handiwork.
