| The name is Smasher, Detective Jack Smasher, member of the Special Operations Police Department. I bust sleazy crooks and protect the helpless public. It's a simple job and I love it.
I'm in my office chowing down on a couple of chocolate-covered doughnuts when the phone rings. Nothing is more irritating than a phone call when scoffing down doughnuts, but I am duty bound to answer. After all, it could be a helpless woman needing her defenseless baby rescued from the clutches of an evil crime boss.
“Detective Jack Smasher of the Special Operations Police Department, talk to me.” I am so cool!
“This is Mrs. Gladiola Walker. I need your help Jack Smasher. I need-“
“That's Detective Jack Smasher!” Disrespect will not be tolerated.
“Oh my, so sorry, Detective Jack Smasher, I need you to rescue my defenseless baby from the clutches of the evil crime boss, Carl the Creep.”
“Hey Sweetie-pie, take it light, I'll have your little bundle of joy back in your arms by dinnertime.” First order of business is always calming the citizen and letting them know Detective Jack Smasher is on the case.
“Oh thank you Jack Sm-, I mean, Detective Jack Smasher. I feel much better now, knowing you're on the case.”
See, I told you. “Just sit tight and do your nails while I do my thing. See you' babe.”
"Oh thank you. I guess I should tell you-“
I hang up the phone. They’ll keep you on the phone gabbing all day, besides I have a job to do - save the Walker kid and bust Carl the Creep.
I can't believe Carl has the nerve to take another baby. Stealing babies is a favorite pastime of old Carl’s and I guess the beat-down I gave him the last time wasn’t brutal enough to teach him a lesson. That’s ok – I’m not known on the street as ‘Beat-downs r Us’ for nothing.
I remove my pistol from my desk drawer. It's a state of the art weapon that carries a twenty-two bullet clip, has a laser guided sight and came with a free pack of bubble gum to boot. I slip it into my specially designed holster, grab my grimy but infinitely awesome trench coat, and gracefully exit my office.
I spot Captain Phunsucka entering the john. I pop in and let the old girl know I have some rescuing to do. “Captain?”
“Huh? What do you want?”
Women bosses take the cake. She's in the can cleaning the mirrors. “Carl the Creep is up to his old tricks again.” While I’m here I decide to take a whiz.
“You could wait until I'm finished in here. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Sorry, Captain.” Women bosses, I swear. “The job shouldn't take too long,” I explain while loading my state of the art pistol.
“Don't shoot that in here,” Captain Phunsucka orders as she leaves.
I've been known to be a little reckless in the past, but sometimes the old Captain just likes to nag. I exit the can and head for the parking lot. None of my fellow officers are around and that just means they're out there protecting the public and cracking criminal skulls. Pride fills my heart. I love being a cop.
In the garage, I notice my modified police motorcycle waiting for me. I love this bike. It has a 579 engine with a turbo-injected filter and a crank-shafting cam with digital wireless relays and internet connectivity that allows for high speeds on the road and the web, plus awesome gas mileage. I mount and start the motorcycle in one swift, fluid motion and rev the engine. Who’s the coolest? That’s right, Detective Jack Smasher. I wheel the bike from the garage and hit the streets.
As I approach Carl the Creep's hideout, I kill the motorcycle's engine and coast. I notice two of Carl's toughest thugs, Stoneface and Rockhead, guarding the front door.
I squeeze the motorcycle's brakes but nothing happens. I have been double-crossed! Someone cut my brake line. I try to stop the motorcycle with my feet, you know, Fred Flintstone style, but I'm moving too fast. I'm heading straight for Carl the Creep's car. The impact would kill me. I glance down at the motorcycle and sigh. “I’ll miss you old girl.” I gently pat her fuel tank and gracefully dive toward a nearby tree.
I grasp a branch and hurl myself into the air to perform an Olympic style triple somersault and nail a ten point landing. I watch sadly as my motorcycle plows into the side of Carl's Honda Civic. The impact of the collision throws me to the ground.
I jump behind a tree and peek at Stoneface and Rockhead. They haven't moved an inch. So, that's their game, ignoring the accident and trying to lure me into a trap. I hate it when they do that.
But they didn't know they were dealing with Detective Jack Smasher. I need a plan. As I'm thinking, a thought comes to me, which isn't unusual for a genius like myself, the florist delivering flowers routine. It may be the oldest trick in the book, but I doubt these guys even know how to read.
Moving inhumanly quiet, I creep into Carl's garden, snatch a couple of potted plants and slink away unnoticed. The goons remain in place with a stupider than usual look on their face. Stupid morons.
Carrying the two potted plants, I walk directly toward the pair of dopes. “Florist, I have a delivery for Carl the Creep.” Either they are really stupid or I am really smart, probably both.
They stare with blank looks, maybe confused; it's hard to tell with these two blockheads. Suddenly, Rockhead reaches for his gun. I deliver a lightning fast judo chop into Rockhead's stomach and smash a potted plant across Stoneface's ugly head. Stoneface crashes to the ground, blood pouring from a nasty-looking gash on his forehead, but Rockhead is still standing. He takes a poke at me. Big mistake. I easily sidestep his attack and bash him with the other potted plant. My fingers lock around his throat and perform an ancient oriental death grip. I wait thirty seconds, and his heads rolls off his shoulders. This technique is not department sanctioned, but accidents happen. I love being a cop.
Now, with the Smurfettes out of the way, the rescue of the Walker baby can resume. I step over the lumps of flesh that used to be men and head to the front door. It is locked. No problem, I slip my all-purpose lock un-locker and bottle opener from my sock and start working on the door.
Carl the Creep is a crafty; he must have a super security lock which thwarts my efforts. Maybe if I just twist a little harder - Dang, my lock un-locker broke in the lock. That sucks, it was brand new. Entry plan number two, the roof.
I remove my nifty trench coat and rest it on the wrecked Honda Civic. I climb the fence where it connects with the house and pull myself onto the roof. Carl's gutters are full of leaves and gunk. You'd think crooks would take more pride in their hideouts. My foot slips and the gutter crashes to the ground. I hope Carl doesn't think I'm paying for that. I'm a cop; we don't pay for damages during a rescue.
I glide across the roof, but I realize there's no chimney. I have two choices now: I can hack my way through the ceiling or move on to entry plan number three, a window. It would be boss to bust in from the ceiling, but that involves tools and time and I don't have either. Entry plan three is a go.
The back of the hideout is probably my best bet. I leap off the roof, land on the ground with cat-like grace and draw my state of the art pistol. No one is guarding the back. How stupid can some crooks be?
Suddenly, a door at the back of the building opens. I throw myself into a nearby bush and watch as Captain Phunsucka steps from the doorway. So, Captain Phunsucka is in on this too! You can't trust anyone. She enters a smaller building a few feet from the main hideout then she comes out again with a basket of what appears to be clean laundry. What's really in that basket - guns, stolen money, or a baby?
After waiting until the Captain is out of sight, I approach the door and peer into the hideout. I don't see Captain Phunsucka, but I do see Carl the Creep. He's sitting on a fancy sofa watching television. I slip in unnoticed and take a moment to study his rotten crooked face. Boy is he ugly.
The laundry basket is on a nearby table. I sneak over and quietly dump the contents on the floor - nothing but laundry. Could it be Captain Phunsucka is doing Carl the Creep's washing? This thing gets more twisted by the moment.
I forget the laundry and make my way toward Carl the Creep. I fight down the desire to just shoot him dead. I'm going to do this one by the book.
“Hold it right there, police! Don't move!” I aim my state of the art pistol and give him a really mean look.
Carl glances at me and laughs. “Beat it, nerd.”
“Nerd!” Nobody calls Detective Jack Smasher a nerd. “That does it, on your feet, I'm taking you in.”
“Scram, you little snot-rag.”
“Snot-rag!” To heck with regulations, I am blowing this sinus clot away. Snot-rag! Can you believe it? I fire my state of the art pistol.
“What! That's your butt now,” Carl growls, leaping from the sofa and clutching his head.
I must've just grazed him. I fire again.
“Give me that!”
I duck under his reaching arms and fire yet again. “Die, cheezy creepball.”
“Ma! Eugene's shooting a water gun in the house again!”
Who's Eugene? They must think I'm someone else. Is it even possible that they don’t know who I am? “Freeze, Carl the Creep, I'm Detective Jack Smasher and you're under arrest. You too, Captain Phunsucka. Bring me that baby.”
“What in world is going on?” Captain Phunsucka barrels into the room, her face like an angry dragon.
“Eugene's lost his mind. Let’s get rid of him?” Carl slaps the back on my head.
“You're both under arrest!”
“Eugene, knock it off. I’ve had enough, put that silly gun away and quit aggravating everyone.”
Silly Gun! Captain Phunsucka called my state of the art pistol a silly gun! “I'm sorry, Captain, there are lines you just don’t cross.” I pull the trigger and blast the Captain in the eye.
Laughter fills the room. Carl is impressed and amused. The Captain is not. “You little bast- Give me that gun, now!”
Yeah, right. A cop never gives up his weapon. A bang on the front door distracts me and the Captain snatches my state of the art pistol.
“Would somebody open the door?” It's Chief Peevish! The Chief of Police has come to rescue me!
“Carl, open the door for your dad,” Phunsucka orders.
Dad? Peevish is Carl’s dad! It’s a giant city-wide conspiracy.
Peevish burst through the now open door. “What in the Davy Jones is going on? Who jammed a bobby pin in the lock? Some hooligan broke our lawn statues and smashed some of the plants!”
“It's Eugene, Dad. I think he's finally lost his mind.”
“Eugene! Did you smash your bike into your Mom’s car? There’s also a gutter can in the driveway! Were we attacked by vandals?” Chief Peevish is upset about the damage. Isn't that just like pencil pushers, more worried about the budget than justice?
“Eugene, you are in for it! Just look at my clean clothes.” The Captain places her precious laundry back in the basket.
Things look bad. Corruption all the way up to the Chief of Police, maybe even the Mayor. “It was all in the line of duty, Captain, something you don't know anything about!”
“Stop calling me Captain! Last week you were calling me Commandant. Enough already!”
“Eugene, have you lost your mind? Did you really do all this damage in just one afternoon? Answer me, son.” The Chief calling me son, isn’t that a joke.
“I will not lie to you, Chief. I did, but a baby's life was at stake.”
“Aw, please not another one of your stories. Kate, you have to see what this boy did. He ruined my new trench coat. I’m going to kill him!”
I am in it deep now. The Chief wants me dead. It is time for exit plan one. I dash for the door, but the Chief grabs me and shoves me on the couch.
“Frank, calm down! Carl, go outside and play while we talk to your brother.”
“You're going get it now, fungus-face.”
“Carl! Your mother said ‘out’.”
Now I understand. The Chief is the ring leader, Phunsucka is his secret wife and inside informant, and their secret child, Carl the Creep, is the leader of their crime syndicate. But I must save myself and blow the lid off this whole evil dynasty. And where is that Walker kid?
“You know what, Eugene, get in your room and don't come out until I tell you. NOW!”
“Ok.” I go willingly and they shut the door behind me. They've put me in a prison, a pitiful looking cell. I lie on the cot and shut my eyes listening to Peevish and Phunsucka plot my demise.
The name is Jack Smasher, Special Agent Jack Smasher, member of the International Spy Foundation. I have been captured by terrorists and must now escape from their cruel prison. It's a simple job and I love it.