World War Gorch – An excerpt from Chapter 12: Watch Nem
…Black as it was – save for the chrome ‘FIRST DUDE’ lettering on the side – the snowmobile stood out against the white snow now blanketing Newbridge. Associate Producer Mike wrapped his arms around Tom’s waist in a desperate attempt to hang on.
Tom gunned the vehicle’s engine. Calling upon the skills he’d developed as Tommy Doom, America’s Youngest Daredevil, he used the snow bank like a ramp, launching the vehicle into the night sky before skidding to a perfect stop just feet from the giant speakers outside the Mayubernatorial Mansion.
Over the howling wind, an out-of-tune voice warbled along to “Gino (The Manager)” from 1975’s
Daryl Hall & John Oates. Tom saw Mike pointing excitedly at a bench to their right. Two figures were seated together, exposed to the elements. Frozen. Left for dead.
Tom nodded grimly, recognizing them instantly: Werner and Rutager.
***
The Mayor of Newbridge needed a break from his radio concert. Speakers had been placed every fifteen feet throughout the town, and now the whole city reverberated with sound of Mayor Roydon Ziegler bitin’ into a Wawa footlong.
Tom and Mike stealthily crept into the room. The military skills he picked up while writing
Dutch took over, and Tom signaled for Mike to wait as he approached Roy like a Special Forces expert. He was only a few feet away when the ess-hit hit the fan.
The sound of Roy chewin’ on that hoagie was too much for Mike. Months of campaign hostilities suddenly came to a boil and he exploded with a rage usually reserved for his routine early morning destructions of neighborhood bars. He charged with a weird, guttural cry.
Before Mike could grab him, Philly Boy Roy stood and leapt nimbly to the side. In the same move, he pulled down the black Nazi cap that Mike wore as part of his
Schnell costume, effectively blinding him. A second later, he had pinned the coat of Mike’s black officer’s jacket to a table with a surprisingly sturdy plastic spork.
“Eeeheeheeheehee!”
Roy broke into triumphant Mummer strut. He cut a regal form, dressed in a green and silver Zubaz print suit and red cleats. A beach towel with an image of former Philadelphia 76er Jeff Ruland was wrapped around his neck like a cape and a crown made out of a Ron Hextall “Puck Stops Here” goalie mask sat atop his head.
“You know why we’re here,” sputtered Mike as Tom freed him. “We know the truth. We’ve seen your mayoral cabinet list! Wilbert Montgomery as Director of Public Transportation?”
“He drove nem Eagles down the field, didn’t he?”
Mike ignored him. “We’ve seen the memo about the mandatory John Oates-style moustaches that all males over 14 will have to grow. And the plans for that horrible statue!”
Roy continued to strut over to a giant bank of TV monitors, each currently showing reruns of Donna Pescow’s
Angie, the first TV series released under Criterion’s new television imprint. “Horrible? Yer nuts! What town don't want no 50 foot gold statue of Frank Rizzo hittin’ Jim Florio in the stones with a nightstick?”
Mike was still madder than a rattlesnake at a Thai wedding, but he stopped in his tracks when a powerfully-built 13 year-old entered the room. Silently, Roy Jr. stared Mike down, and then began pacing in a circle around Tom and Mike.
“Roy,” Mike barked. “Get rid of your son.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Host, you may want to tell Callscreener Walter here that Roy Jr.’s the only thing keepin’ me from beatin’ on him again like he was Randall ‘Tex’ Cobb! Eeeheehee-hee-hew-heehee-hew!”
Tom put his hand on Mike’s shoulder, trying to calm the red-faced Associate Producer down. “You’re not denying it, then?” the Kid asked. “That you were behind the attacks by the Gorch and his mutant army?”
“That was just a red earring, you munch! All that time chasin’ The Gorch, and youse never noticed Roy Jr. and me switchin’ that bomb on the Little League field with our nuke-u-ler bomb!”
***
Outside in the snow, four figures shuffled towards the Mansion. Once, they might have been recognizable as Paul F. Tompkins, Ted Leo, Patton Oswalt and former NBA All-Star and Sixth Man of the Year John Starks. But now, as they lurched along with dull, lifeless eyes cast toward the ground, it was clear that they were something else, something lesser.
And one look at the hideous, frayed toupees that sat askew on each of their heads, driving them towards their destination, made that abundantly clear.
They were…James.
***
Tom was frozen, still in shock. “Nuclear bomb?”
“Nuke-yoo-ler,” Roy corrected him. “I told you Roy Jr. found a bomb when I was up wit nem Amish dudes, ‘member? Roy Jr. says our bomb’s gunna make Fatso and Little Friend look like an M80 in a trash can!”
“Who are Fatso and Little Friend?” Tom asked, his mind still reeling.
“Maybe you oughtta crack a history books instead readin’ nem Archie comics you love so much! Fatso and Little Friend were nem bombs what Robert Shaw dropped on Japan!”
“I think...I think you mean Fat Man and Little Boy.”
“Who’s THAT?”
“Fat Man and Little Boy,” Tom said, growing impatient with Mayor Ziegler. “That’s what they called the bombs dropped on Japan.”
“Oh, you don’t know what yer tawkin’ about! It was Fatso and Little Friend. That’s where the sayin’ comes from.”
“What? What saying?”
“When nem Japanese refused to give up after we dropped Fatso on ‘em, President Harry S. Tubman called-”
“W-wait,” Tom said “Did…did you just say Harry S. Tubman?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Nevermind.”
“Anyways,” Roy continued. “When they didn’t give up the first time, President Tubman called up that Emperor dude and said nem famous words: ‘Get ready to meet my Little Friend!’”
Tom ignored this latest Zieglerism. Could it be possible? Could they have gotten their hands on a weapon of mass destruction? He looked at the elder Ziegler, who was now celebrating with a decidedly unwholesome variation of Archie Bell & The Drells’
Tighten Up dance. No, Roy was incapable of such a plan. But one look into the steely eyes of Roy Jr. was all that the Hero of the Disenfranchised needed to know that this threat was very real.
“Roy, you can’t be serious, we’re not going to stand here and let you do it.”
Philly Boy Roy stopped laughing and looked at Tom soberly.
“Do it? You villaidummy! I done it 35 minutes ago!”
End Chapter 12
