Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Th3rd Strike

The King was dead. But he did not die the way we were all led to believe. He died defending our great nation from a small scale Martian attack. Small scale. As if there's such a thing when it comes to Martians. No. It is referred to as “small scale” due to the fact that only 83 lives were lost. Shortly after his death a new king would emerge. A reluctant king.

Martin Luther King.


“I'm not sure about this, my brother” MLK said told me that faithful day. “If Elvis couldn't survive them damned Martians, what chance do I have?” I understood his lack of faith in this regard. Martians are a tricky lot. Sometimes they stood as large as skyscrapers, wiping out entire city blocks with a sweep of their hand. Other times they were the size of molecules disguising themselves as viruses.

“Elvis wasn't the only one, Martin” I told him. “There are others like you.” I pressed a small button hidden in my cuff-link and in entered the rest of the team. A legendary team whose efforts would be hidden from history until now.

Th3rd Strike.

Bruce Lee entered the small, empty cafe first. He nodded to me and smiled at MLK as he sat down. They shook hands. Lee removed his glasses and unbuttoned his suit. He didn't speak much but when he did it was always quotable.

Next the Man in Black came in. He had to lower his head slightly to enter the doorway. With his guitar strapped to his back as always, he too shook MLK's hand and sat down. He and Bruce nodded to one another then looked at me.

“Team” I addressed them. “This, as you know, is Martin Luther King Jr.” The each nodded. “I have taken it upon myself to invite him to join us in our battle to defend Earth against the Martians.”

“No offense” Cash began. “But you sure you got what it takes?”

“What does he do?” Lee asked.

With that I quickly removed a pistol and fired it point blank into MLK's face. Lee could not react fast enough to stop the impact even with his ability to slow time. Cash, with his brute strength and invulnerability could not stop the bullet.

But MLK could.

He just didn't know it yet.

Just before impact a light mist filled the air around MLK's face and slowly drifted across the table. Lee stared at me in astonishment. Cash rubbed his finger across the table and gathered a small amount of the powder before placing it on the tip of his tongue.

“Powdered sugar” Cash said with a smile. “Not quite what I was hopin' for but better than a bullet, that's for damned sure.”

“How did you know I could do that?” MLK asked, wiping sweat from his brow with a napkin.

“I didn't” I tell him. “I was just hoping the reports were true.”

“What are we doing here?” Bruce asked. “Besides admiring King's magic tricks?”

“There have been reports of a Martian sighting near Utah” I say. I pull out a file and lay it on the table.

“What kind?” Cash asks.

“The bad kind” I say. Cash smiles.

“Then why are we sitting around grabbin' one another's dicks?” Cash asks. “No offense, reverend.” King smiles at Cash.

“I just wanted to make sure that King would join and you two were okay with it” I say. “And to get this picture.”

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