Mark A Davis
"Look," said Grandpa Anarchy's sidekick, "it's not that I don't believe that one man is responsible for global warming. That's just silly. It's that I don't believe that global warming is real at all! How can Baron Climate Change be responsible for something that doesn't exist?"
Grandpa Anarchy climbed a steel rung ladder up the side of a zeppelin. Smoke billowed from oil-burning engines to the aft of the gondola; the wind whipped it up the sides of the rigid envelope, stinging the eyes and making them water. Below him was a ten thousand foot drop into upstate New York. His sidekick, Truther Boy -- a young man in jeans and a red hoodie with "Truther" on the front in a faux-Coca Cola logo script -- was just behind him. Far above them climbed Baron Climate Change, a man dressed in heavy flight leathers like those of a World War I pilot with brass goggles and a brass-and-steel jet back strapped to his back. He laughed hysterically like the madman he most certainly was.
"Kid," Grandpa Anarchy yelled over the howl of the wind, "the important thing that Baron Climate Change wants to bring 100 years of winter to Buffalo NY. He wants to start a new ice age! We can't let him do that."
"Climate change is a myth!" the kid exclaimed. "It's a false story created by the liberal socio-governmental complex to justify more rules and regulations. It's like those people that believe that we actually went to the moon, or that the earth is round. I mean, you'd fall off -- you wouldn't be able to see the horizon."
Grandpa reached the top of the zeppelin. Baron Climate Change ran to the front along a gangplank that ran the length of the ship. "I can see the horizon from here just fine," said Grandpa, "and the only thing I'm worried about falling off of is this zeppelin. Anyway I've been to the moon, Kid. I fought the Blood Red Menace up there. Trust me, it ain't that great. Just a bunch of dust really, except for Doctor Thomas Nova's secret moon base."
"You're part of it too, Grandpa!" yelled the Truther Kid as he reached the top of the ship. "You're part of the grand conspiracy!"
"Kid, you got one job -- to help me take down the baron here. Leave the conspiracies for later." He charged after Baron Climate Change, yelling, "Give it up, Baron! We've defeated your Zoot Soot Monsters and broke your Ice Age Machine! It's time to face the music!"
The baron spun, having reached the end of the gangplank near the front of the zeppelin. He produced a weapon that was a contraption made of glass pipes and tubes, with a glass ball in the center filled with bright blue liquid. "I vill nefar give up, Herr Anarchy!" he yelled. "I am zee rizink ov zee sea, und zee meltink ov zee polar ice caps! I am zee comink ov zee new ice age! I am unpredictable veather!" He fired the weapon, spewing a stream of ice that Grandpa barely managed to dodge. Laughing, he launched skyward, his 19th-century jet pack spewing black smoke.
"This entire battle is a farce!" Truther Boy exclaimed. "You and the Baron are in cahoots! I know you're secretly a member of the Global Judeo-Masonic Illuminati Zionist Knights Templar New World Order Cabal!"
Grandpa Anarchy sighed. "Kid, I got no idea what you're even saying. I've got my card from the Department of Superhero Licensing, and if the president needs me I'm there for him -- but he generally tries to avoid calling me at all costs. Other than that I pay my taxes like everyone else. That's the extent of my involvment with the government."
"The Internal Revenue Service is a Free Mason conspiracy!" the boy exclaimed.
Trailing black smoke, Baron Climate Change circled around and flew back at them, weapon trained on Grandpa Anarchy. Ignoring his sidekick, Grandpa waited. At the last second he raised his pistol and fired twice. The first shot knocked the ice weapon from the baron's hands. The second struck the jet pack, which sputtered and then exploded.
The baron crashed back onto the zeppelin. He scrambled to his feet, producing another weapon that looked like a cross between a blunderbuss and a brass pesticide sprayer.
"Very vell!" the baron snarled. "I am goink to brink you down like zee tvin tovers!"
Black, oily soot shot forth. Grandpa ducked. "Don't fool yourself!" Truther Boy exclaimed. "9/11 was rigged! It was an inside job! Jet fuel can't melt steel beams!"
The shadow of a helicopter fell across the zeppelin. A blast of soot and hot oil struck Truther Boy in the face. He collapsed to the ground. As he writhed in pain, he shouted, "Grandpa! Tell them it's not true -- Baron Climate Change didn't kill me! He would never do such a thing! It's all a conspiracy! Warn, them, Grandpa! Tell them the truth!"
"So that's how Baron Climate Change killed your sidekick?" a gravelly voice asked.
Grandpa sat in a spare room with one bright light. Across the table from him sat a man in dark glasses and a black suit. There was an open briefcase in front of him.
"What?" said Grandpa. "Don't be daft. Nobody dies from soot and oil."
The man lit a cigarette. He leaned across the table. "I'm going to ask you again, Mr. Anarchy. Please consider your words carefully. Is that how Baron Climate Change killed the Truther Kid?"
"Yeah, okay," said Grandpa. "We'll play this your way. Sure, Baron Climate Change killed the Truther Kid. That's my story, I'm sticking to it."
"Good," the man said. "We wouldn't want the public to get the wrong idea."
"Incidentally," said Grandpa, "you don't have any information for me on Sally the Masonic Avenger? She's that sidekick that you kidna... that disappeared while working for me last year. Only, you know, her parents have been asking...."
The briefcase shut with a loud snap. The man stood. "I'm sorry, Mr. Anarchy," he said, "but I have no idea who you're talking about."