Midnight squad the grim, p.1
Midnight Squad: The Grim, page 1
Midnight Squad: The Grim
By
J.L.M. Visada
Table of Contents
© Copyright 2011
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
© Copyright 2011
All rights reserved.
Basically, don’t steal my stuff. I’ve got a pointy stick and too much free time on my hands. I will hunt you down, and when I catch you…well honestly I won’t do much because I’m a big wuss. That being said, I’ll make a character that reminds me of you, and then do incredibly horrible things to that fictional you. Yeah you heard me, even the filthy perverted stuff. I’ll repeatedly torture, traumatize, and belittle my version of you forever. I might even have your character sexually assaulted by syphilitic howler monkeys with narcolepsy, and Alzheimer’s. That way they have sex with you, fall asleep, and when they wake up they forget that they’ve already had sex with you and do it all over again. Plus you’d get the added bonus of monkey syphilis…in your butt. Don’t get monkey syphilis in your butt, it’s that kind of irresponsible behavior that makes Jesus cry. So be cool, don’t steal my stuff, and together we’ll fight the awkward spread of monkey syphilis amongst fictional characters. That practically makes you a hero…no, not just a hero…a superhero! A superhero that fights monkey syphilis, and because you’re single handedly fighting against this terrible disease I’d like you to know that in my mind I’m throwing you a ticker tape parade.
Dedication
To my wonderful wife, who is more wonderful and awesome than I could ever hope to be. I love to hear you laugh. Your kind heart brightens my day. The love you showed me has made me the man I am today. (I swear this is an improvement.) I’m blessed to just be around you. Plus your boobies turn me into a drooling mess with an IQ that drops down to the point I should have to wear a protective helmet and ride the short bus. Thank you for always supporting me.
To my Lord and my God Jesus Christ. Thank you for not popping my head like a pimple. Thank you for overlooking that I’m basically a harmless goofball, and seeing how much I really do love you. Thanks for forgiving all my sins, and thank you for boobies. (Mostly in regards to my wife’s boobies, or as I like to think of them as my own personal amusement park. The others are pretty nice as well though. Clearly you spent some time on them, and I greatly admire the craftsmanship.) Thanks for making my wife, and giving her enough patience that she has never once tried to smother me in my sleep.
Thanks to my kids. It’s just a shame that you are dogs and cats that can’t read. Bump, you’re still the best dog ever. Munch, you’re the most loving dog I ever had. Maybe when you get to heaven you can finally be the little lap dog you always wanted to be, but here on earth you’re fat ass is too big to let you sit on me. I still love you though. Nala, you’re the most stubborn cat in the world. I only wish I had video of that flying karate kick you did to me. Your ninja skills are truly impressive. Priss, I miss you. I hope you’re primping and prancing up in heaven. I still never figured out if you were really intelligent, or just quietly retarded. Tiger, give Priss hell ‘til I get there. We are still buddies even if we won’t see eachother for awhile. Strangely, for some ungodly reason I actually miss waking up to you sitting on my forehead. I don’t miss you farting on my head though…not even a little.
To my Grandma and Grandpa, I really hope to see you both again when my time comes. Grandma, save me some room at the scrabble table. I realize you’re probably playing even now, and that being said have me some biscuits and gravy waiting. I mean who cares if you have high cholesterol in heaven. Grandpa, you were the most generous man I ever knew. You really lived your life by your own set of rules. I hope I’m half the man you are someday. I miss the man that knew everything, even if he was making it all up as he went along.
Finally, my Dad has looked after me all my life. He sacrificed for me, and pushed me when I needed it. You always are the coolest dude in the room.
Well that’s all for the dedications. Except for one last person I want to thank. You. Thanks for reading this. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did then come say hi to me on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/jlm.visada , and tell your friends. If you absolutely hated it, well then thanks for reading it, and as a show of appreciation for your efforts recommend me to your enemies and I’ll do my damnedest to irritate the shit out of them.
Chapter 1
“Get up maggot!” Somewhere buried deep inside the hangover brought on by vodka, tequila, and something resembling the blue liquid barbers use to clean their equipment I recognize that voice. Unfortunately, recognition and remembering are two very different things. Slower than a cripple running a marathon my eyes open. Cheap overhead lighting that’s just too bright, and the big brother of the hangover I had yesterday morning have combined to create the perfect storm of suck. I want to sleep it off, maybe throw up first, and second, and probably third. “I said get up maggot! This isn’t namby-pamby fairy princess time! Get up or I’ll plant my boot so far up your ass that I’ll have to untie my shoe for you to kiss your mother!” Each word was punctuated with a swift kick to my bed shaking the bile and stale undigested alcohol a little further up my throat until I finally leaned over spilling my insides onto the cement floor.
“You are just the saddest sack of shit I’ve ever had the misfortune of setting my God given eyeballs on this side of a diaper. Hell boy, with all the brain cells you killed the diaper is probably smarter! Now get your ass up because God help me, if I have to tell you again I’ll have your balls as a paperweight, you whiny nutless piece of trailer trash.” Shit, I remember now. Every morning before school, and every Sunday before church, of course his choice of words was a little more…fatherly, but it was still every bit as direct. It’s embarrassing enough to get caught, but it’s even worse when they send your dad.
“Dad, let a man sleep a little will you? I’m not a kid, and I have the hangover from…what the? Oomph!” The floor was cold and hard. Mental note: Discover whoever invented cement, and shoot them…repeatedly…in the balls. “We’re on the clock, so that is Colonel Wilson F. Peterson, you piss poor nutsack. You can address me as Sir since you are clearly either too drunk, or too stupid to remember anything else right now! Just because you have spent the last few months hiding with your thumb up your ass does not mean you get to forget to conduct yourself appropriately. Now since I finally have your attention, get your narrow ass cleaned up. You have a job, and this one won’t involve you sucking off truckers for lunch money.” I’ve been awake less than two minutes, tossed off a bed onto the floor into my own sick, and to top it off my head felt like I‘d been blowing a jackhammer. I pushed up, and tried not to think about the dampness that was moving down my shirt. Yeah, I can tell it’s going to be a great day.
“Dad I’m out. I’ve been out since Afghanistan. Remember the whole unfit for duty, psych ward, electroshock, medication, and best of all quote none of it happened unquote. You know that really is the best part of it all because apparently all that shit I went through, was just in my head. Who knew I had such a great fucking imagination!” Something hard, a fist or a knee, hammered into my gut. I fell down to my knees on the cement, body lurching to spray its contents. I have to say, the man has a strange way of showing he cares, but I can’t deny he makes his point. All I could do was aim at the Colonel’s feet and hope nature would take its course. It may not be the best way to try to win the argument, but I need to buy a couple moments to get my shit together. He’s right, I am nothing short of an embarrassment. The least I can do is salvage what little dignity I have left. Of course I’m starting to think dignity walked out on me like a hooker when the money dries up. My stomach was empty and so all I provided were a few gasping dry heaves, and a little spittle. In the interest of self-preservation it was probably for the best since those are the shoes I bought him last year for Christmas, and he was always unnaturally attached to any Christmas gifts from the family. He tanned my ass epically when I accidently broke a coffee mug one of my sisters made for him. “Listen here you little bastard! You do not get to say when you’re out. You are not out until Uncle Sam zips up his pants and gives you cab fare. Now get your worthless ass up, and you’d better get your shit together or I will personally beat the piss out of you and then use you’re worthless hide to mop it up! If your mother could see you now it’d break her heart. Hell it breaks my heart. At least be man enough to look me in the eye.”
It hurt to stand. I felt my knees pop and crack as I stood up and my spine sounded like a kid playing with bubble wrap. Finally, I was standing eye to eye with the man I‘ve idolized since I was a child. All I could do is think about how far off the mark I’d gone. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up, and now look at me. He’s still the h
Wilson’s eyes became little slits of rage. “What in the hell is your malfunction boy! Did I stutter? I know you speak English, I remember signing your report cards! Maybe when I tossed your ass onto the floor you cracked that ugly melon you call a head. We…do…not…have…time…for…this!” Each word was spat out like poison. “You two pencil pushers get in here and explain everything to this little turd before I snap and beat him until he falls down and gets crushed under the weight of his own stupidity!” With that, my stepfather stomped off from the cell and down the hall. Each footfall somehow sounded louder and angrier. Two men skittered into the room. As they seemed to be preparing I took time to look at my surroundings. Four walls, ceiling, and a floor with a very large puddle of last night’s festivities in the center, clearly this isn’t the Holiday Inn. A thin cot jutted out from the wall, they built it as one piece. The mattress looked more like cardboard than a soft, inviting comfortable bed. Phone numbers, slang words, and a various insults etched the walls. On the plus side, now I knew several numbers to call if I wanted a good time. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all cement. There was a drain sitting in the center of the room. Easy cleanup, just run a hose in here and there would be no trace of whatever happened. It was the most generic looking jail cell I’ve ever been in during my lifetime. All it needed was a window with steel bars in it, and some guy that thought I had a “pretty mouth” to complete the prison Barbie playset. I had been blackout drunk so all things considered, I, and more importantly my butthole, are very thankful I hadn’t been stuck with a roommate.
The first of the two men cleared his throat. “I’m…” I’m sure he said stuff but all I heard after that was the teacher from Charlie Brown. Mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah! Then his partner took over and apparently, Charlie Brown had a substitute teacher that was just as boring. Over the years I’d learned that creeps like this never actually have any information; they just have a bunch of legalese that keeps you from complaining about the bullshit that you’ll be dealing with later. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Guys listen. I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re boring the piss out of me. Now don’t get me wrong, I am sure you have many important things to discuss, but I’m hung-over. I have vomit on my shirt, and I’m still trying to figure out why there are Cheetos in my vomit because as far as I can remember it has been at least two weeks since I had any Cheetos. So can you please get to the parts that you think I’ll actually give a crap about before I hang myself with my shoelaces? The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can talk with my father.” I have to give these two guys credit. They never blinked. They just kept everything as calm and professional as possible. They’d have made telemarketers proud, and it really pissed me off.
The basics were that the U.S. Government had a position that they felt I was uniquely qualified to fill. I would be well paid and briefed on all pertinent information when I got to the location. They couldn’t stress enough how important it was that I understood all of this was classified, and at the same time while long on legalese and liabilities, they were short on details. I’ve done this all before; it always starts out real professional, with lawyers, and paperwork. They always end in blood, nightmares, and regret.
I was doing my best to shake off the last remnants of my hangover when one of the suits standing in front of me cleared his throat. “Sergeant Reaper, I wouldn’t want to make presumptions, but perhaps you could at least pretend as though you are listening. We would not want any misunderstandings. The legal ramifications are mmph!” His eyes opened in shock. I guess he had never had anyone grab him by the face. I started to squeeze harder until I felt some of his molars loosen. I remember a time when I listened to men like this as though the garbage they spewed would someday save my life. Hell, I used to take notes. I’m a lot smarter now, or maybe I just don’t give a shit anymore. I took my time, waiting until I was sure that both of them were listening. “Ok, why don’t we quit wasting time with one another? Everything is super hush-hush. If I talk about it, or clue anyone in about it in any way that compromises the situation then I have done something bad. If I do something bad then things will happen to me that I probably do not want to happen. The end.”
“It’s a little more complicated than mmph!” Well now I had both of them by the face. I took my time. I counted to ten. I even tried to find my happy place. Unfortunately, I quickly realized I’d have better luck finding Waldo. If I ever had a happy place, it has long since closed and torched to the ground to collect the insurance money. That realization made me a little more than cranky. I’m not exactly cuddly on a good day, and on a day like today I was about as far away from friendly as you could get.
I watched the fearful looks on the lawyers’ faces. With a quick tug both of them were on their knees, my sick ruining what looked to be well-tailored slacks. “Ok, listen carefully. There is nothing you can say that I haven’t heard, so how about I explain it to you. If I talk about the mystery project then I’m dead. If I fail in whatever my duties are then I’m dead. More importantly whatever I’m going to be doing probably has such a small chance that I’ll live through it that basically no matter what happens I’m dead. Now blink twice if you two are following what I’m saying.” Two pairs of angry eyes blinked back at me twice. I squeezed a little harder until they both whimpered. I hate to admit it, but I was actually having a little fun. It is nice when you have nothing left to lose. I heard footsteps coming back, and I started wrapping things up.
“So show me where to sign, and then get lost.” I couldn’t help but enjoy screwing with these two a bit. It didn’t get rid of the hangover, but it made it more bearable. Who knew how many times these two pencil pushers had watched as some idiot signed away his life, only to go home to their soccer mom trophy wives and two point who cares number of kids, and forget all about it like they never had a part in it. Both of them were terrified, it would have been funny if they weren’t technically on our side. One of them swung out the clipboard while the other produced a pen. I let them both go and signed the forms. The Colonel’s angry voice sandblasted my ears, “What in the blue hell have you three been doing. I said get ready to go. Stop this circle jerk and let’s move! It’s been a long fucking day, and the sooner we are done here the sooner I can get you three hemorrhoids off my ass!” The Colonel just has a way with words. He spun on his heel and stomped back down the hallway. “Come on you little shit stains, daylight is a burning!”
Apparently, the lawyers didn’t appreciate the treatment as they both mumbled to themselves about my father being a mean son of a bitch, but of course they only did this after he was safely down the hall where they knew he wouldn’t hear them. They were right of course, Dad is a mean son of a bitch. Especially when there is work to be done, but the problem they were about to have is that he’s my mean son of a bitch. Nobody talks about my dad like that. The spineless weasels turned to me. I took a closer look. One of them had a comb-over that would make Donald Trump proud, and the other had a hoop earring and a toupee that I guess was supposed to make him look younger and cool. It really just made him look like a middle-aged pirate with a small poodle sleeping on his head. I jumped at them like I was going to give them an old-fashioned beat down. Both men screamed, turned around and ran face first into the wall. Sometimes people are their own best punishment.
