Jerk Knifepecs Spills the Beans

I woke up, kicking the sheets off the bed so hard that the comforter decapitated the first of my attackers. The other two, brandishing long curved knives, were momentarily taken aback by this sudden and unforseen display of violence. I turned that to my advantage as I picked up a picked up the stack of throwing stars I keep under my pillow and, in one swift movement, managed to lodge all 14 of them in one of my assailant’s throat.

The other one had regained his footing, however, and advanced on me with the knife. He was a large, wide-shouldered mook with a square jaw and a scar jutting through his upper lip. He tossed his knife from hand to hand dextrously, grinning.

“Stop,” I said. “You don’t want to do this.”

His grin widened and turned into a sneer.

“Oh yeah?” he snarled. “And what makes you think that?”

It was clear he had no intention of letting me live so I decided it was time to use my ultimate weapon, the weapon that no villain could stand against.

“… Your mother would be so ashamed of you.”

He stopped in his tracks, and dropped his knife. With a groan, he fell to his knees, and began to weep openly at my feet.

“Don’t tell her!” he wailed, clasping my ankle with both hands. “For God’s sake, don’t tell her!”

I pulled my foot back, stepping back from him.

“Oh yeah? And why shouldn’t I?”

“I’ll quit my job for Doctor Murder! I’ll swear off evil forever!”

This gave me pause.

“You mean it? You’d switch sides just like that?”

He sniffled for a moment before answering.

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ve actually been thinking about getting out of this gig for a while. Being a henchman doesn’t really suit me, you know? I want to do something creative, like paint. Or maybe write. I think I could be a writer, if I just gave it a chance, you know?”

I nodded, sagely. And then I snapped his neck with my thumb and index finger with one quick movement.

“I hate traitors” I said, emotionlessly, and walked to the bathroom to shower.

I should probably introduce myself for your little tape recorder there. My name is Jerk Knifepecs, and I’m a professional Big Strong Angry Guy.

It’s not an easy job, mind you. I deal with all sorts of assholes day in and day out, but despite the danger and near-constant threat on my life, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

There’s something liberating about waking up and knowing, just knowing that someone is actively trying to kill you. It’s better than any cup of coffee you could get from the finest coffee beans in the world made by the greatest barista in all of Spain. The only time I ever feel truly awake is when I’m in the process of mauling another human being. Unfortunately, my life isn’t all nonstop action and excitement. Some days are as dull as watching paint dry, only the paint is white, and the fence you put the paint on was the same shade of white, so you can’t really tell when it’s actually dry or not and you have to go and look real close and-

Oh. Right. Anyway, it was going to be a boring day. I received a summons from the president to attend some top-secret meeting. I took my private jet out of its hidden underground hangar and zipped off towards Washington D.C. from my secret mountain hideout.

The inevitable hijack that happened half way to Washington seemed half-assed this morning. I think it was the fact that my pilot was only on his third day on the job. I didn’t have any emotional connection to him, you know? So when they cut his throat and pulled back their vests to reveal rows of C4, it was like “meh”, you know? No connection, no emotional throughline. Boring.

Oh, the guys? Yeah, I shot them. All four of them. I had a crossbow stashed under my bulletproof vest just for an occasion such as this, and in half a second four arrows found their mark. It was child’s play. Like I said, boring.

So the pilot’s dead but we’re practically at D.C. by this point so I just bailed. I grabbed a parachute from under my seat, opened the door, and there I went, you know?

I love a good skydive. Clears the mind.

I touch down on the white house lawn, and wave to Chuck, that secret service guy who always thinks I can’t see him following me when I drop by. He sees me waving and freezes like a deer in the headlights for a second, before bolting inside to grab someone with a higher clearance. I lay back in the grass and just relax until all the hubbub dies down and they authorize me to come inside.

I know we’re here to talk about the assassination and whatever, but I just want to point out that on the way in I flexed my arm at a cute maid and she died right then and there. I mean she literally died. Heart exploded from excitement or something, they said. And yes, I know. That was careless of me. Every part of my body is a highly-potent weapon, and I have a habit of forgetting this sometimes, so yes, I am truly and deeply sorry, but I would just like to point out how goddamn cool that was, right? Right?

Ok, no hi-five. Fine. Yeah, got it. I’ll send her family some flowers. Jeez. You don’t have to be such a hardass about it.

So anyway, prez finally pulls me into his office. Says something about Venezuela, some chump killing people or whatever. I dunno. Didn’t really listed. You know him, when he starts talking he just goes and goes an-

Oh, you’ve never met him? Well, I suppose I can understand that. Busy guy, I’m sure. Anyway, he talks a lot. Like, way too much. So I pick up a paperweight off his desk, some kinda crystal thing with a bug in it; it looked like a scorpion or something. I crush it with one hand and it shatters completely. Blood and shards of glass spill all over his desk. Shit, you shoulda seen the look on his face, it was priceless.

He just sorta shuffled me out of the room at that point. It was fine, though, I got the gist of it. Assassinate the guy killin’ people, get paid, go home. Seemed pretty routine. Well, luckily for me, it was shortly after landing in Caracas that things went from boring to incredible in the space of about a minute.

The second I get off the plane, right, zip zip zip right here, here, and here. Blow darts. Didn’t even know people still used those. And besides, isn’t that an Indian thing? Ok, whatever, shut up. I didn’t care that much.

Next thing I know, I’m on my back in a dark room chained to a metal bedstand. Some weird asshole with a mustache was standing over me with some kind of needle, speaking some idiot language that wasn’t English. He laughed a lot, and I caught the word “kill” a lot, but he said it like “keel”, like on a boat. Pissed me off, so ripped the chains off the bed. Shit chains, I think; I can’t normally do that stuff, but these were pretty easy. Not good chains like we get here in the states.

Anyway, I wrap the chain around his neck and pull until he goes limp, then kick the door so hard it explodes into splinters which end up hitting some guy in the hallway like buckshot from a shotgun.

What? No, Larry, I don’t know what the hell a “soosh heff” is, but- oh. Oh, he was a cook. Well, was he evil? Ah. Shit. Well damn, can I send his family flowers too? Alright, well I’m not paying for international shipping.

So I bust out into the hallway, hurtle over the corpse of this cook guy, and clothesline two guys in black suits just as they began pulling their guns out. It was at that moment I realized I was completely naked, which is actually kind of a bonus in my business. A 400-pound wall of muscle coming after you? No problem, just shoot the guy. But a 400-pound wall of muscle coming at you with his dingledong sashaying to and fro? You freak out. You don’t know what to do, even as he punches you in the face so hard that his fist comes out the other side of your head. Element of surprise.

So yeah. Heads get punched. Groins get kicked, and I pick up a pair of boxers from one of the dead guys who’s about my size. No, actually they’re kind of tight, not a perfect fit. You wanna see? I still got ’em o- ok, fine, Larry, then don’t act interested if you don’t care.

After a bit more punching and some really, really good one liners that I can’t remember right now and you’re just going to have to take my word on, I ended up at an airport. I snuck past a few attendants and dove onto the first plane I saw, which just so happened to be the one that crashed in Virginia three hours ago. And before you ask, no. I had nothing to do with it, I swear. That plane was going to crash into that road when I got on it, I didn’t touch a thing. I just, uh, got it up in the air and generally aimed it at the United States. It wasn’t like I was aiming for that schoolbus full of homeless orphans.

And I think that’s where our stories connect, Larry. So, I’m pretty sure this is the part where you take me out of these cuffs, and let me walk out the door.

Oh, the target? I just assumed he was the guy who had me tied to that bed. He was, right? Ok, good. Anyway, thanks for the coffee. Say hi to the prez for me next time you see him.