By: Fifth Dentist

The Warrior

Tony shook out his boots before putting them on. An old habit from the war. You never know what kind of venomous critters would crawl inside overnight to enjoy the warmth. Maybe not much risk of scorpions in Blaketown, but Tony was not a man to become a casualty due to carelessness.

He regarded the hint of sunrise and the nearby terrain from the lean-to by the pond where he had spent the night. This was the day he would reach his destination. This was the day he would prove his wartime skills were relevant in polite, civilian society. Not just relevant. Necessary. To be respected! They would learn their lesson. He packed his gear in his duffel bag and stepped out toward his destiny.

Tony walked north along the shoulder of highway 80. 3 miles would be nothing compared to the miles he had covered while back in the service during the war. He recalled the long days of recon or even resupply missions. A military man never loses the tendency to evaluate the scenery from a tactical perspective. During the war, it might save your life. And now, it passed the time. He knew in his rational mind that he had not much to fear on highway 80. But the lack of any good cover along his route still made him edgy. He could let his guard down once he reached his destination.
He tracked the vehicle approaching from the south without turning to look. 1 km. Closing. He recognized the sound of the RCMP cruiser’s engine before the officer pulsed the siren. Tony wasn’t in the mood to chat or waste time getting to his destination. But he knew he now had to. He stopped, turned, and put on a neutral expression as the officer got out of the cruiser.

“Pardon me, sir. Sorry. Would you please come over to the passenger side of my vehicle, Eh?” Tony walked over as asked and stood calmly. Determined to volunteer no information, but hoping to persuade the officer to go about his business. “What can I do for you, officer?”

The officer looked him over and betrayed a fair degree of unease from what he saw. “Sorry, sir. I don’t know whether you are familiar with this town, but residents here in South Dildo are not particularly comfortable with drifters. We prefer you go elsewhere, eh.”

Tony calmly said to the officer, “I’m just passing through. I’m visiting a friend in North Dildo.” The officer was immediately alarmed and took a half step back. “Sir, I will kindly ask that you refrain from being rude. Sorry. Eh.” Tony tried to calm the officer, “I don’t understand. Are you angry because I didn’t say Sorry?” The officer rested his hand on his baton and grew increasingly angry. “Sir! Sorry! I must insist that you take a polite tone. I am beginning to think that you are inclined toward mischief. Please get into the back seat of my cruiser, being careful not to bump your head.”

Annoyed with the diversion, Tony was nevertheless aware that being locked up in a warm cell for a night wasn’t as bad as the potential consequences if he resisted the officer. So he got into the back of the cruiser and kept quiet. The officer carefully closed the door, and proceeded to drive Tony back to South Dildo RCMP Headquarters.

The Liberals

Tony didn’t expect much trouble. He would put his gear in a locker, hop into a cell and stay until they got tired of feeding him. But, he wasn’t prepared for RCMP Captain Ocasio-Cortez. She strode into the processing area while Tony was being fingerprinted and said loudly, “Ay yi yi. Where did you dig up this La Cucaracha, Officer Gord?” Officer Gord replied politely to his Captain, “Sorry, Maam. I found him walking on Highway 80. He is suspected of intent to be mischievous.” Captain Ocasio-Cortez exclaimed, “Ay Caramba! Let’s see what he has in this bag. Maybe he is hiding some privileges in there.”

The Captain walked around to the table and opened the bag. She was surprised and amused when Tony’s art supplied tumbled out on the table. Opening his sketch pad to his latest drawing, she saw three rectangles labeled as, [Liberals], [Stinky] and [Bad]. “Stinky and bad, eh?” said the Captain as she grabbed one of Tony’s crayons from his kit and proceeded to draw a giant dildo across the page; labeled as [Dildo]. “Now you will remember your visit to our town, pinche cabrón.”

In her amused distraction, the Captain failed to register Tony’s rising stress level. His gaze became blank as his instincts from his time in the military took over. Sgt Tony Branco moved like a cobra, grabbed a bottle of ink from his art supplies and splashed it in the face of Captain Ocasio-Cortez. Officer Gord reacted instantly, but too slowly. Before he could finish saying, “Sorry. Please don’t…” Sgt Branco brandished a handful of pencils. Without a word, he made it known to Officer Gord that coming after him was a bad idea.

Branco grabbed the rest of his supplies and left the South Dildo RCMP HQ, stealing Officer Gord’s cruiser and heading north. Along the way, Captain Ocasio-Cortez spoke over the police band to Tony. “Que te la pique un pollo.”

Porn Foley

Tony arrived at his friend’s cabin shortly later. Colonel Foley came outside and instructed Tony to immediately move the cruiser off the road and camouflage it. “I heard everything on the police band. Get that hidden. Now! What is the matter with you, Branco? The war is over!” Turning and going back inside, the Colonel poured two glasses of moonshine and sat by the fire, waiting. After a half hour and with the RCMP cruiser completely hidden, Tony went into the cabin and sat in the chair next to the Colonel.

“What was it this time, Branco? You are going to get yourself in trouble if you can’t put your wartime service behind you.” The Colonel motioned toward the glass on the table for Tony. Branco picked it up and took a long pull of the liquid fire. “Jesus, Colonel Foley. This shit is going to kill you.” The Colonel replied, “It’s gotta be something. And I already told you, I don’t go by Colonel anymore. My name is Porn Foley.”

Tony took another drink which was slightly smoother and felt himself already relaxing. “It’s just not fair, Colonel. They trained us to be machines. We made comics and cartoons that made the enemy very upset. You did the sound effects that made our attacks twice as deadly. And now these civilians mock us. They treat us as inferior.”

Foley looked at Tony and reminded him, “But, the war is over, Branco. You have to adapt. You see the flag and cross as a matter of life and death. But they aren’t anymore, Tony.” Branco bristled at the implication that the flag and cross were anything less than the most important things on the planet. “I didn’t want to fight them, Colonel. I just wanted to come here and get some sound effects from you for my new cartoon. They Drew First Dildo!” Foley knew Branco was right. There was no honor in allowing the liberal outrage to continue. He was calm as ever and managed to bring Branco back to the mission at hand. “New cartoon, you say? Let’s see it.” Tony took one last drink and a deep breath, then removed his magnum opus from his duffel bag.

The Colonel watched as Branco randomly flipped the pages in his sketch book. A rectangle labeled [Obama] next to a triangle labeled [Too much taxes]. Cut to a circle labeled [Biden] next to a triangle also labeled [Too much taxes]. Cut to seven scribbles with the word [liberals] written over them and a joined thought-bubble saying {Duh}.

Branco paused and stopped flipping the pages when he saw that Colonel Foley was weeping. “I’ve never seen anything this great, Tony. What was that amazing drawing on the second page?” Branco replied, “That’s known as a circle, sir. Can you do the sound for this?” Colonel Foley became deadly serious and said to Tony, “This will take everything you have, soldier. This is some next-level shit that you never even saw in New York during the war. You’d better get some sleep and be ready.” The Colonel put his glass down, tossed a blanket to Tony, and went into his room.

War Never Ends

Branco woke before dawn as usual and immediately prepared himself for the day as he had every day during the war while stationed at the 13th Special Forces AV Regiment in Poughkeepsie. He put on his combat boots, tactical artist’s smock, military-grade bifocals and ammo belt packed with crayons and paste. Fully prepared for anything, he walked out the back door of the cabin and looked out to see Colonel Foley already fully utilizing his own skills learned during the war. Branco moved behind a nearby tree to see better.

The Colonel moved like a panther between his various improvised sound stations. He clunked a log on another log, then did a backflip to a station ten feet away to blow a slide-whistle and tap his feet on a sheet of tin. It was like watching an artist at work. The Colonel then suddenly grabbed a trombone that was slinged to his back and was instantly behind Branco menacingly prepared to play the sad trombone sound. But Colonel Foley stopped himself before delivering the deadly sound. “You can’t sneak up on me like that, Branco. I was in the middle of warm-ups. You could get your feelings hurt if you aren’t careful.” A relieved Branco exhaled and said, “Sorry Colonel. Are we ready to do this?”

Colonel Foley stepped back and evaluated Branco. “You’re tough, Branco. I know you’ve been through heavy combat cartooning with me. And I know you’re one of the best. But that cartoon you drew…it’s powerful. I don’t know if you even understand how deadly it can be once we add sound. You’re going to hear things today that will hurt you, Branco. You’re going to hear things that will confuse you. You know about the sounds I used in the war, but you don’t know what I’ve become able to do since I changed my name to Porn Foley. I’ve been training in some dark places. So, are you ready, soldier?” Branco stood up straight and shook away the fear. “Yes Sir. Let’s make those liberals pay. They drew first dildo!” He walked over to a nearby easel and put up his first drawing of a rhombus labeled [Pelosi] next to a trapezoid labeled [She’s old].

Colonel Foley explained as he prepared, “This sound is illegal in 22 states and 3 provinces. I studied it in the Montreal underground sound-shops. But, it’s the only sound that makes sense. Brace yourself, kid.” He pinched his cheek and pulled it away from his face, and then pushed it back toward his face. Slowly at first, and then faster. Faster. The ‘sqip-sqip-sqip’ sound was so offensive, Branco nearly fainted. “I told you to brace yourself, Branco! Next page!” Branco put up the drawing of seven scribbles with the word [liberals] written over them and a joined thought-bubble saying {Duh}. The Colonel pulled a menacing pair of chicken breasts from his kit and slapped them together. ‘slap-slap-slap’. Branco’s knees nearly buckled, but he regained control of himself. More drawings. More sounds. Dread and disgust. One sound more offensive than the next. And the final drawing. Branco paused before he put it on the board…

Branco looked at the final drawing. His most detailed and deadly drawing, brilliantly summing up decades of oppression by liberals. A tear ran down his cheek as he looked at an amorphous blob labeled [Gina Carano] bravely resisting a circle with ears labeled with the Chinese flag, and holding what appears to be a megaphone for some brilliantly mysterious reason. “It’s time, Branco! Put it up and take cover!”

Branco placed his deadly masterpiece on the easel, then leapt behind a boulder and covered his ears. But he couldn’t resist looking. He put on his helmet and peeked above the top of the boulder. The warrior in him couldn’t escape the horror of combat cartooning. The Colonel pulled a jar of Hellman’s mayonnaise from his kit and paused. He held the jar up as an offering to the gods of cartoon war. Then placed it on a wooden table decorated with candles. And then the Colonel continued by carefully placing various comic props. A pair of glasses with nose and mustache. Wind up chattering teeth. A rubber chicken. All surrounding the jar of mayonnaise. Branco shuddered as the Colonel reached in the holster on his hip for the final prop. An Oscar Mayer wiener. ‘Dear God, please forgive us.’, thought Branco. ‘This is it’.

The Colonel moved the microphone close to the mayonnaise jar and turned up the volume. Dark clouds swept in and covered the sun. And then like a man possessed, he plunged the wiener into the mayonnaise. The sound was horrific. ‘Thwip’. And again. He drew the wiener out and plunged it in twice. ‘Thwip thwip’. The sky roared with thunder as the Colonel was no longer controlling the wiener. Instead, something dark and horrible took over. “No Mercy!!!” shouted the Colonel and he switched to automatic fire. ‘Thwip thwip thwip thwip…’ Birds fell dead from nearby trees as a result of the cacophony. A bear in a cave nearby evacuated its bowels and dropped dead. Satan could be heard laughing as hell itself was unleashed onto the soundtrack for Branco’s cartoon. Until finally after ten full minutes, the sound stopped.

The Aftermath/The Beginning

Branco carefully crept from behind the boulder to see the aftermath. He first covered up the most deadly drawing and then started looking for the Colonel. The wooden table was broken and the props were scattered around the clearing. A trail of mayonnaise led up to the back door of the cabin where the Colonel laid. Weiner in hand, groaning, “We did it, son. Get the tape. It’s your responsibility now.”

Branco grabbed and secured the tape and the drawings in his duffel bag, then returned to the Colonel. “We might finally win, Colonel.” The Colonel had already secured a jar of moonshine and rested in a chair by the back door, drinking mournfully. “Maybe, son. Sergeant Tony Branco and Colonel Porn Foley present…Freedom. Are you going to New York, now? We both know that only Fox News would be brave enough to publish this.” Branco replied, “I can only try, sir. They might be too oppressed by liberals to publish the whole thing. It may wind up as a series of cartoons with no sound. But, that’s better than nothing. The liberals won’t know what hit them. Goodbye, Colonel.” And Sgt Tony Branco turned and began his long walk south to New York.

“Go with God, Branco. The flag and cross need men like you.”

[fade in credits. some manly/weepy song by Creed plays.]