Classic Anarchy: The Crystal Weenie

The Crystal Weenie

Mark A Davis
091

A flatbed truck loaded with soldiers raced along a dirt road.  A helicopter swooped low overhead.  An old man in a gray suit leaned out of the coptor's side door.  A muscular young man with armored fists looked over his shoulder.

"Why are we chasing this guy again?" asked the young man.

"That's a hell of a thing to ask after ten days and 2,500 miles," Grandpa replied.  "He's got the Crystal MaGuffin, remember?"

Professor Stubenfield, seated inside the helicopter, sighed.  "Grandpa, it is called the Crystal Weenie.  It's a crystal carving of a...."

"Yeah, yeah, I think I know what it's called," Grandpa said.  "It's a plot device of immense power, yada yada yada."

"An artifact of immense power, yes," the professor replied.  "In the hands of Death Medal it could spell doom."

"Spare me the details," Grandpa said.  "You ready, Sixteen Tons?"  Below them, an enemy soldier raised a rocket launcher.

"Who wants to live forever?" the sidekick asked.

"Not me!" Grandpa yelled.  "Immortality is for the young!"

Grandpa leaped.  He landed on the bed of the truck.  A dozen storm troopers jumped to their feet, rifles aimed at him.  Above them the helicopter exploded into flames.

Sixteen Tons landed behind two troopers.  His armored fists crashed into their heads.  He raised his hands high.  "One fist of iron, the other of steel!" he yelled.

"Yeah, yeah," Grandpa said.  He grabbed the nearest storm trooper and threw him into two more.  "We all know where the name comes from.  You don't gotta say it every time."

Bullets flew.  Fists slammed into jaws.  A man in black military garb climbed from the passenger side of the truck and onto the bed.  His chest was decorated with medals and his head was a burning skull.

From a speaker mounted to the truck's roof, a guitar wailed.  The skull grinned.  "Symphony of Destruction," he yelled.  "The cover version by Norwegian band Zombie Crockpot.  A fitting soundtrack to your doom, is it not, Grandpa?"   He drew a service revolver.

"Death Medal!" Grandpa yelled.  "Give us the Crystal Widget, or I ain't gonna be responsible for how many of your bones get broken!"

"It's called the Crystal Weenie, you muscle-headed cretin," the villain spat.  He fired.  Grandpa, who was grappling with a soldier, spun.  The bullet struck the storm trooper in the back.

"Maltese Falcon, Golden Fleece, Unobtanium," Grandpa replied.  "Does it matter what I call it?"

"Fool!" Death Metal growled.  "You don't even know what it does."  He fired again.

"What it does?  It don't do nothing," Grandpa said.  He kicked a storm trooper over the edge.  "All it does is move the plot along.  I ain't got time to listen to your mumbo jumbo nonsense backstory about why the dingus is all important and stuff.  By the time we get to the end of this caper, nobody's gonna remember that crap anyway."

Sixteen Tons clobbered the last of the storm troopers.  "You're out of cannon fodder, Death Medal," Grandpa said.  A prop plane could be heard overhead.

"And just one bullet left, too," the villain replied.  "I guess this is the end of the line."  He turned and fired through the back window of the truck, striking the driver in the head.  The truck jerked sideways, barreling towards a cliff.  "So long, Mr. Anarchy.  I won't see you later, as I won't be at your funeral."

The plane swooped over the truck.  Death Medal grabbed a dangling rope ladder.  "Have a nice fall!" the villain called out.

Grandpa snatched up a rifle and leaped.  The truck sailed out over empty space, then fell into a ravine.  Grandpa landed at the edge of the precipice.  He rolled.  He fired at the retreating plane.  The engine sputtered and spouted smoke.

"Grandpa!" Sixteen Tons yelled.  He hung from a root ten feet below the cliff edge.  In the distance, the plane burst into flames and went down.



They found Death Medal in the plane's wreckage.  The villain's head sputtered like a spent matchstick.  "You're as persistent as an AC/DC riff," he rasped.

"Where's the Crystal Doodad?" asked Grandpa.

The villain ground his teeth.  "Crystal Weenie, you ignoramus!  And I have it right here."  He held up the tiny statue.  He grinned.  "So long, Mr. Anarchy.  You and I are on the Highway to Hell...."

There was a faint click.  Sixteen Tons shouted, "Look out, Grandpa!  He activated it!"

"Crap," Grandpa said.  As the light inside the crystal statue grew brighter, he said, "What does this doohickey do, again?"

FINI