Wednesday 8 July 2009

Dirty Harry: RIP

1987, San Francisco

I was born in San Francisco in 1979. My neighbourhood was pretty rough—I was involved in backyard brawls since I was 7. But somehow, I didn’t end up on the wrong side of the law. I always wanted to be a cop, just like my dad, because when I used to see him walking around with a gun and people saluting, I thought it was a cool thing. Yeah, Chico Gonzalez Jr. (that’s me) wanted to be a cop.

But nothing was cooler than what my dad told me about somebody named Harry, Harry Callahan. Apparently, he hated bad guys to the point that he would just shoot them off in the head with his .44 Magnum. That sent shivers down my spine, but heck, I was willing to do it. The more he told me about it, the more I wanted to be just like him. Yeah, that was my ambition. To be like Harry Callahan.

 

2009, San Francisco

11:00 PM

He was lying on the floor, his clavicle completely shattered (that’s collar bone to you fellas). I was late by five minutes and those scumbags got to him. But Harry did take out two guys, even in that kind of situation. It was just him.

“Don’t waste your time, sonny. Get out and after them. I might go any time.”

I couldn’t do that. I called 911 and alerted an ambulance. It’s the least I could do. I mean all my life I’ve wanted to be like him. Couldn’t let him go like that, could I?

Ah, there’s the ambulance...

11:00 AM

“... and today, we have come to witness the last day of Inspector Harry Callahan as an inspector. It truly has been an honour. Please, Mr. Callahan, accept this award on behalf of our community. It’s because of you our children have been able to walk these streets at night without any fear. Thank you.”

I saw him walking toward the stage to collect his award. At 78, he still had that swagger. He collected his award and went hurriedly back to his seat, but was caught by the MC. “No, no, Mr. Callahan, you have to share something with us. You can’t get out of this one with your .44 Magnum.”

The crowd roared with laughter. Callahan too managed a wry smile. He walked up to the podium.

“Hey guys... and gals.” The throaty, manly voice was still intact. “All I want to say is... I hope future police officers aren’t scared of dishing out justice to those pricks out there like I did. Sure you don’t win friends, but you keep your enemies off the street. That’s all I have to say, thanks... and oh, all you lucky punks out there, you better not feel so lucky. I still have Smith & Wesson with me.”

Saying so, he drew out THAT big gun. The audience let out a gasp. Ol’ Harry just gave them a wry smile and put it back in.

I was put in his department. Homicide—where my father first assisted Harry. I saw some pleased faces on my way to the Police Department. Must say I didn’t like them. They were the pieces of dirt, the scumbags in whom Harry had put the fear of God. They felt they were let off the hook. Really, now?

11:30 PM

“Too much loss of blood... we can’t give him too much of a chance.” The words rang in my ears. I told the doctors I’d be back.

Meanwhile, my assistant (MY assistant, lord it sounded so funny) was on the trail of those bad guys. They just wanted to get back at Harry, and get back they did. JEE WHIZ THIS TRUCK’S COME OUT OF NOWHERE, I’M ON COLLISION COURSE...

Chico Gonzalez Jr. assistant’s narrative

They were six of them. SIX of them. Chico had to take Harry to the hospital. I don’t know why. What was so great about this guy any way? An old guy with arthritis in his hands who thinks he rules the world. Not happening for me. For me, NO ONE is above the law.

Uh-oh. Bullets coming in from all directions. I think I had just run into them.

I could only see the silhouettes. They just started firing again.

I ran for my life. I hid behind cars, trees and anything that came in my way. In the ensuing chase, I lost all my bullets. So I had no gun and six crazed guys after me.

DEAD END.

I turned back and looked at them. My time had come. They all raised their guns. Suddenly, I heard a few gunshots.

I thought I was gone. But I opened my eyes. Nothing happened to me. I just saw four dead guys, and two standing facing the other side. I checked my pocket and found one bullet left. I shot one of the guys with that. Now only one was left.

What I saw though, in front of me, was frightening. At the far end, I saw a shadow, in a sling, holding up what looked like Magnum .44, hair frazzled. And on the look of it, his skin on the outlines were wrinkled. The guy in front of me was shaking in his boots. I then understood why—I heard a familiar, throaty voice of that man.

I know what you're thinking, punk. You're thinking "did he fire six shots or only five?" Now to tell you the truth I forgot myself in all this excitement. But being this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world and will blow you head clean off, you've gotta ask yourself a question: "Do I feel lucky?" Well, do ya, punk?

Back to Chico Gonzalez Jr. narrative

I found myself in a hospital, feeling all woozy. Suddenly, I realised, Darren (my assistant) had gone after those six mad thugs. I gotta get there. I somehow managed to convince a frantic nurse and a very anxious doctor that I was ok. I just picked up my gun and off I went.

I ran, without realising that I was lost and wouldn’t have the faintest idea where the crooks were. Suddenly, I heard gunshots around the corner. I ran.

When I reached there, I saw six guys with their backs to me. Obviously, they’d cornered Darren. I took out my gun—hey wait a minute, this is Harry’s .44! After I picked it up, I got a message from the doc on my cell phone—we’d lost Harry Callahan. Excessive loss of blood.

I couldn’t let him die just like that. I had a fully loaded .44 Magnum with more bullets in my pocket to spare. Aimed it at those b*#@$%s and BANG! BANG! BANG! Four down, two to go.

By this time, I suppose Darren had woken up, because the guy in front of me just dropped dead. Yeah, he was looking straight into me just like the last crook. But the both of them had this queer stare.

And then, with a bit of a flourish, I gave him that piece of talk which I grew up listening to. The last guy was so terrified, he shot himself in the head. Good thing, because I fired and realised I’d run out of bullets.

Darren came out of the shadows and asked, in fear more than anything else, “Harry...?”

I just turned away and walked.

Live on Harry, live on. 

Sunday 21 June 2009

JATAYU – THE FOURTH REICH

2960 AD

The Third World War had arrived.

Surprising that there was a thousand-year gap in between, considering the state of the world. But it was inevitable. With Ravana heading The Mutant Avengers, and trying to woo all and sundry to his side, the threat of war was imminent.

He was audacious enough to start with Indian Presidency. Easy target, next door neighbours, they must have thought.

The first battalion of Mutant Avengers entered through where the Gateway of India had existed. Easy opening, lads. They loaded their guns and weapons. They fired.

They hadn’t counted for HIM, though.

2900 AD

As he held the little man-bird in his arms, Garuda was elated.

Garuda, the most powerful of all man-birds, had a son. His wife died in the outbreak of mutant flu in the early 2800’s, but before that she left her eggs with the Mutant Laboratory. It was a pre-decided arrangement—Garuda knew his wife was too weak to survive the flu.

“What will you name him, sire?”

Garuda pondered. The hospital suddenly began to shake.

“I believe we have an earthquake coming, sire!” yelled the doctor.

Garuda shook his head, “This isn’t an earthquake. This is Ravana. Take my son and get out of here, now!”

“But sir, his name!”

“GO NOW!”

As he was running out of the building, Garuda tried to use all his power to keep the building up straight. But Ravana was too powerful for him. Just before he died, he looked into the doctor’s eyes—the doctor was now standing outside—and screamed, “JATAYUUUUU...”

When the doctor turned around, he had the shock of his life—a young, ten-headed hydra stood just behind him, yo-yoing with a human head.

“So... Garuda names his son Jatayu, eh? Too bad, he’s only going to last a few minutes...” saying this, he blasted a laser beam at the infant.

The doctor turned away, but a little late. The baby’s wing was hit, and he was crying. He tried running, but Ravana was too quick for him. He caught the doctor and ripped his head off.

“Ah... I now have a replacement!” He threw away the head he originally had in his hand, and used the doctor’s head as a yo-yo.

The baby was now crying more loudly than ever before, and Ravana walked up to him. “Hmmm... should I kill you, or should I not?”

Suddenly, the sun came overhead, and Ravana’s heads started heating up.

“OUCH! I hate the summer! Anyway, little baby, I think the sun is enough to kill you. I’m going to leave you here to die... bye, little Jatayu! The emperor of the Fourth Reich pays you his last respects! HAHAHAHAHAH!”

And so, Ravana left. As the sun shone on Jatayu’s body, the cries stopped. Was this it?

Back to 2960 AD

As the Mutant Avengers fired their guns, they found that all their bullets blasted midway before reaching the target. Through the rubble of the Gateway, they saw a pair of red eyes. Before they could register what it was, they were dead.

Jatayu strode out of the rubble.

He saw Ravana in the distance, pulling off another human head. He flew magnificently towards him.

Ravana saw him coming and laughed. He just took his craft higher and higher into the atmosphere. Jatayu followed him. And so did Jatayu’s partner, Batushka.

At one point all three of them were pretty close to the sun. This is where things got worse. Jatayu started seeing red. Batushka knew what was happening, but it was too late. Ravana simply laughed.

Jatayu’s eyes emitted a stream of red-hot laser rays, and he spun round and round, not knowing what else was going on. He hit Batushka in the right wing, and missed Ravana by a whisker.

Ravana took Batushka with him and left Jatayu to his fate, just like he had all those years ago. Poor Jatayu destroyed almost everything around him, unknowingly, and collapsed to the earth in a heap...

2975 AD

Jatayu kept hearing the voices in his head. Was Batushka really alive?

As he entered the Lankan Presidency, he met his first obstacle—the giant mutant ogre, Bakasur.

Bakasur smiled evilly, “Welcome back, Jatayu. How would you like to be dealt with this time?”

Jatayu calmly replied, “The same way I kicked your ass the last time, buddy.”

Bakasur flew into a rage. And then flew at Jatayu.

Jatayu leapt at him in the same motion. I WILL BRING THE FOURTH REICH DOWN MYSELF, he thought to himself.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Monday 19 January 2009

Engaged…

That was odd.

A phone call I had no idea of. God damn it, 5 in the morning. Must be a crank call.

No… I don’t have too many friends. Not many who’d give me a call like that.

And what was that about a body, anyway?

 

It was almost all over. The grill was open. There he lay. Fat boy. Shallow breathing. Eyes filled with fear. As far as I’m concerned, no remorse.

“Do you fear death?” I asked the boy.

He nodded nervously.

“Oh, then I’m sorry…”

Fingers at the ready… light’s out, kid!

 

Another boring day. I had absolutely no idea what to do. Jobless, penniless and generally had everyone’s nerves on edge. My mind had diverted from that phone call. It seemed insignificant now, compared to the other stuff I was handling. Stuff? Wait a minute, I thought I was jobless. Oh, working in a call centre didn’t seem like a job these days. I liked the dough, though.

 

After my bit of ingenuity, I lumbered over towards the old shack. Another victim. Oh I wish I’d come here before, these guys are just too easy. As I opened the door, I saw him lying down there. The grill was next to him. My appearance was enough to put the fear of the devil into people.

 

Today, I decided to take the day off. Uh oh, my phone is ringing [please don’t be the team leader, please don’t be the team leader]. It’s not. [UNKNOWN NUMBER]. Ok, funny. “Hello?”

 

It was time to contact him. I reached out for him. He was empty, devoid of much feeling. Just tagging along in life, as it were. Hopeless, useless, and as far as I was concerned, time for him to leave. All I had to do was contact him. Aha, a cell phone. I knew all about this contraption. And with my ability to speak the language, it was a cinch. Time to open the grill, folks. Dinner’s ready.

 

That call again. I can’t even trace it. The police? No, that doesn’t seem a friendly proposition at the moment. What body was this fellow talking about? Who was going to die? I needed to help this guy, whoever he was. I’m not well known in these parts for being a friendly chap, generally, but something within me told me that I should help this fellow, whoever he (or maybe she, if I’m lucky) was.

 

I kept walking along the street. My, this place was filled with scumbags. I mean come on, you’ve got to have a life! These fellows didn’t have one. That’s why I’d come along, to take them away. If you have something you’re not using enough, it’s time to discard it. But these people weren’t realising that. Sometimes, you needed more than an alarm. You needed a wake-up call.  I was ready to make the call.

 

I was all set and ready to go. Go where? I didn’t know where this call came from! Wait a minute, I hope I’m not hallucinating. Check call register. Nope, I wasn’t. Unknown number at 5 am and 11 am. But who? And where?

 

How did I land up here? Strange place, this. Lots of big houses and small huts. Oh yes, I’d come here to do my job. That’s right. The journey can make you feel disoriented sometimes. Sigh. I started walking. I noticed a lot of people around me. Early morning jogging. I wondered whether the girls really wanted to keep fit or to show off. And I wondered whether the guys were motivated to stay fit or… forget it. Any which way, they’re all going. Keep running, I say. This might be your last run, ladies and gentlemen.

 

I just ran down the building. I don’t know why. I had NO idea of where I was supposed to go. Still, I thought I had a sense of responsibility over that person. Where was his body trapped, though? Suddenly, I heard screams. There was a rundown shack just 50 metres away from my house. My, they were loud! No one else seemed to hear them though. Strange. I ran towards the shack.

 

“You understand your role, then?”

“Yes” I replied.

“Do you fear death?”

I looked him in the eye and said, “No”.

“Very well, then…”

And the lights went out.

 

I could hear voices from within. I circled cautiously around the shack, searching for an opening. Finally, I saw a window, some 3 metres above the ground. I needed something to stand on. Aha! It was ready for me. A couple of large boulders. I was around 1.8 metres in height myself, so I only needed a little leverage. I climbed up on the boulders and looked inside.

A man sitting at a table, looking at a body on the opposite wall. Funny, that body looked very familiar. Anyway, I was concentrating on the man. Tall, dressed in those ancient Victorian robes, complete with frills and laces. He had white hair and a pair of monocles to boot. But heck, even he looked familiar. In fact, the guy looked just like my next door neighbour, who died in mysterious circumstances. A strange looking grill was beside him.

And then, I realised.

 

“Oh no, please, not me,” I said. “Take the guy who lives next door! He’s a guy with a tarnished image, and his soul needs cleaning, not mine!”

“Don’t worry, you will make arrangements for him. However, now it’s your turn.”

“I will make arrangements? ME?”

“Yes you… oh you ask too many questions!”

I was under his powerful hypnotic spell. After that, he asked me, “Do you understand your role, then?”

 

When a ray of light fell upon the body on the wall, I got the shock of my life.

IT WAS MINE.

And this definitely was my neighbour!

But… but… if my body was there, what was I doing here?

Suddenly, I felt myself floating towards that strange grill. It was open. I tried resisting, to no avail. I was then brought face-to-face with my… well, ‘dead’ neighbour.

“You have a tarnished soul which needs to be cleaned.”

“Nonsense! Just let me go!”

“Oh really? And how come you think you’re floating in the air? Some illusion, I suppose? Isn’t that you lying over that like a rucksack?”

It definitely was.

“But who the hell are YOU to decide? You can’t decide when I die or what to do with my soul!”

“I most certainly can, my boy… I am the Alpha, the Omega. I am the universe. I am… THE SOUL COLLECTOR. I am God’s messenger.”

I tried pinching myself, but to no avail. This was no nightmare. In a few seconds, I was under his powerful hypnotic spell. My body, that is. I looked on, not able to do anything.

 

He then asked my body, “Do you fear death?”

It nodded nervously.

 

“Oh, then I’m sorry…”

Fingers at the ready… light’s out, kid!

 

I was dragged into the grill. The only thing I remember next is getting a crank call, 5 am, about a body.

Wait… that was MY body.