Episode 8: Hazzard by Fire
“When I met Mark Hazzard, he was nothing but a sidewalk-sucking freak, hassling old ladies for nitrous and lemon drops,” the Commandant began. “It was 1975. The gasoline crisis was in full effect, and the conflict in Vietnam was escalating to warlike proportions. I can’t be sure on either of those because my Internet is down. But I am sure of one thing: when I met him, Mark Hazzard didn’t have a leg to stand on. Literally. He was given robotic legs when he joined the Army, designed by none other than Professor Blowjob.”
“It’s true,” said Blowjob, solemnly. “And if I knew then that he would someday use those legs for evil, I would have filled them full of disease instead of computers.”
“Why did you go to that much trouble for a grunt?” Beans asked.
“Because Hazzard was so much more than just a grunt, Beans. He was a superhero. I know because we had him tested.”
Beans whistled. “Wowee!” he said. “Imagine, a real life superhero.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes imagination’s a bitch,” the Commandant said. “And sometimes that bitch scratches you right back.”
They all nodded, in agreement about how bad imagination can be.
“So I picked him up,” the Commandant continued, “gave him three squares, a couple of legs, a pot to piss in. The only thing I asked in exchange was that he join my special unit and fight for the American way. Well, Hazzard never met a hustle he couldn’t trot. He took me up on it and fought like a pisshound for the entire war. We would’ve lost that war if it weren’t for the brave work of Hardy and Hazzard.”
“Well, actually …” Professor Blowjob began.
“Can it, Blowjob,” the Commandant said. “This is no time for your Commie propaganda. I know my history and you don’t. And my history says we turned Vietnam into a parking lot. Moving on.
“When Hazzard fell into that vat of acid, I knew we’d lost him to evil. He was too scarred, too hideous. Guys that ugly aren’t allowed to do good, not in my America. So it was no surprise that he founded the Storm Fighters of Evil. What was a surprise was what he would do next.”
“And what did he do next?”
“He killed President Bush,” the Commandant answered.
“George W. Bush?” Beans asked. “But he’s still alive.”
Hardy chuckled. “Oh, Beans,” he said. “So naive.”
“Really, in this instance I don’t think my incredulity can be chalked up to naivite,” Beans said. “George W. Bush is without question still alive.”
“Maybe,” Blowjob said. “Or maybe the person you think is George W. Bush is nothing but an impostor.”
“Holy shit,” Beans said, his world crumbling before his eyes.
“C’mon, Beans,” Hardy said. “You really think that guy could run a country? George W. Bush was a genius. That guy who plays him was barely qualified to run the dinner theater in Spokane where we found him.”
“But how? When?” Beans asked.
“Dammit, Beans!” the Commandant shouted. “We have urgent business to attend to! We don’t have time to get into the whys and wherefores of who said what or why said when! All you need to know is that Hazzard killed the real George W. Bush, the government replaced him with the manager of a dinner theater, and everything you think went on in America between the years 2000-2008 was a complete fabrication. Now get your head in the game, because I’m about to lay some real shit on you.”
“Two days ago, I got word from the owner of the secret prison where Mark Hazzard was being held,” the Commandant continued. “Seems that Hazzard’s team infiltrated the jail and broke him out, and now their whereabouts are unknown. We have reason to believe that he’s still somewhere on Earth, but we can’t be sure.”
“And now you’re calling on the three of us to clean up your mess,” Hardy said.
“Not just the three of you,” the Commandant responded. “The six of you.”
He pushed a button on a remote control and one of the walls swung around to reveal the final three members of the Storm Fighters of Courage. Hardy leapt out of his chair and covered them all with kisses. Then they all high-fived and said, “let’s do this shit!”
Next episode: Finally, Some Action!