This past Saturday I went on my monthly trip to visit my mother in Illinois. I always take an Amtrak train down there as much as it blows donkey testicles. Something always ends up irritating me to the brink of insanity. If it's not loud obnoxious little kids, it's dirty old people. If it's not smelly people, it's the shitty service. There is no end to it. I guess that's what I get for using a government funded service. I was suffering from one of my typically harsh Saturday morning hangovers so I was particularly testy on the drive to Milwaukee. Some negroid wouldn't let me change lanes on I-94 so I chucked my lit cigar into his 1925 Cadillac Rustmobile. The Black & Mild lit his 3 foot tall 'fro on fire and he started to panic. Wanting to drag me down with him, he leapt out of his car in an attempt to light me on fire as well. It's a good thing I activated my Super Negro Forcefield that I installed on the F-Bird for my trips to Milwaukee. He bounced right off of it and flew into a bank of homeless people warming themselves around a fire in a barrel. Trust me, it kicked ass.
I arrived at the Amtrak parking lot running late as usual. I seem to have something against being on time. I pulled up to the booth to pay my $6 but I couldn't understand what the silly gook was saying so I ran the booth over, crushing him inside with minimal damage to my car. I guess I park for free today. I went into the station and picked up my tickets and boarded the train. I got a seat as far away from people as I could because I hate them with a passion. Sometimes I think they have a personal vendetta to further ruin my already shitty train experience. I settled into my seat and started blaring Superjoint Ritual on my headphones in anticipation for their concert this Saturday. A few more people got on and I crossed my fingers hoping that they would stay away from me. Of course my wish wasn't granted as a fatass hairy white guy and a small Hispanic kid sat directly behind me. Jesus hates me. The kid insisted on sitting by the window and the fat man obliged. I knew that deep down he wanted to sit directly behind me so he could kick the fuck out of my seat as all kids love to do. I was right yet again as the kicking persisted so I quickly snapped my seat all the way forward and he couldn't reach it anymore. A thought crossed my mind. I thought it was kind of odd for a small Hispanic kid to be traveling with an obese white man but it soon passed out of my conscious thought and I went back to listening to the hair-raising screams of one Philip Anselmo.
About halfway into the trip I heard a sound that I had not heard in several years, with good reason. The sound that I heard sent a shiver up my spine and made an uncomfortable churn in my stomach. It was a god-damned Tickle-Me Elmo! I could swear I made sure to destroy each and every last one of them back in the Great Elmo Hunt of '98. I even received a Congressional Medal of Honor for it and a rather large Christmas ham which I ate in front of a class of Jewish schoolchildren. As soon as I heard that shrill "Hey! That tickles!" I knew that I was dealing with no ordinary Mexican and his el-lardo counterpart. Simple linear logic told me that they were part of a terrorist force I had heard about in my secret agent training from The Ukraine called FLAMING (a.k.a. Fat Lazy Americans and Mexican Immigrant Narcissist Gynecologists.) I had initially thought the boy had a sort of future-narcissist-gyno look to him. My instincts were correct. After all, he was pretty adamant about being important enough to sit by the window. I decided to get to the bottom of this situation as fast as possible. I leapt over my seat and obtained the Elmo by poking the kid in the eyes and taking it (a technique I learned at the Curly Howard School of the Martial Arts). I immediately ripped the head off and to my surprise Elmo had something else to say for once. He snapped at me, "Hey! That hurts motherfucker!" I ripped out his voice box and tossed it to the front of the train so I wouldn't have to put up with his shit anymore. Inside of Elmo's carcass I uncovered the basis of the two FLAMING agents' plot. Resting comfortably inside was a block of weapons grade plutonium and blueprints to the Gateway Arch. St. Louis just happened to be the second leg of the train trip after the stop in Chicago. FLAMING was going to blow up the Gateway Arch with one mighty nuclear device and I was sitting here with the main ingredient in my hands. Realizing the terrible economic and emotional losses our nation would suffer if the Arch were to be destroyed (ha, yeah right. It's just a pointless arch but for entertainment purposes we'll pretend it's an integral part of our nation), I was determined to foil their plot. Just then I was hit with a paralysis ray by the Mexican kid. In this case the ray consisted of him screaming and crying because the whining of little kids has a Kryptonite-like effect on me. I fell to the floor and Elmo's foul carcass squirted out of my hands only to be picked up by the fat man who bent over and further paralyzed me with the sight of the tangled brown jungle that was his ass crack. I knew I was in dire straits...
The two FLAMING agents made their way towards the front of the train with the plutonium and blueprints. With great effort, I was able to get my cell phone in front of my face. I dialed into Secret Agent Headquarters but since I have a Nokia phone I only had a 3.78% chance of having the remotest of a remote signal. Something finally went my way and I got two signal bars. I phoned in to Secret Agent Girl Next to My Locker and filled her in on the situation. She activated the radio starting device on the Secret Agent Firebird and it lifted off and flew back to headquarters to pick her up. I told her to land it on top of the train and assist me in this oh so FLAMING situation. She was able to make the trek from Slinger to northern Illinois in 7 minutes because the Secret Agent Firebird is that damn fast. She landed and swooped down through the window and quickly administered the Jack Daniels Anti-paralysis syringe to me and I was ready to go again. We began to make our way after the FLAMING man and boy but a series of obstacles impeded our progress. A grotesque boar of a woman stood up out of her seat and kindly asked me if I would take a picture of her and her son enjoying their trip. Not only were they enjoying this hellride, but they wanted me to document it for them. I got the camera set and focused but the sight of the woman through the lens made me cringe and I cut her completely out of the picture. I just saved the sense of sight of a photo developer. She plopped back down and we were able to move on. Further up, a middle-aged mother was struggling with getting her luggage into the rack above the seats. She asked for assistance. I asked what was in the suitcase and she said her collection of shoes. I then replied that I would help her if I could beat the ugly out of her with all of her goddamn shoes. She started to cry and I started to feel bad but then I realized that I didn't care as usual and just shoved her out of the way. It would've taken eons to beat the ugly out of her anyway. Further along now, an 82 year-old man stopped us and started hitting on Secret Agent Girl Next to My Locker. I could tell she wasn't very flattered by it so I ripped his dentures out and promptly clamped them onto his wrinkled nutsack (the man later filed a lawsuit against Gold Bond). That took care of him. Secret Agent Girl Next to My Locker thanked me with another anti-paralysis syringe and we continued on.Just as we were nearing the front of the train, we reached Union Station in Chicago enabling the FLAMING members to hop of the train and make a run for it into the station. We lost them in a crowd so me and Secret Agent Girl Next to my locker decided to split up. As soon as she went her own way and I went on mine, I was immediately surrounded by a crowd of beggars. It was the standard lot of about 20 bums who conveniently "forgot to bring money with them and need to get to Seattle to see their family". I pulled out a nice shiny quarter and when someone went out one of the motion sensor doors to get to a train I threw it out into the middle of one of the tracks. Falling over each other, the bums raced out to claim the quarter to buy their daily 40 of Colt .45. Just as this was happening, a train was pulling in and all the bums were splattered and dismembered by the 3 PM Texas Eagle. I'd have to say that I already filled my monthly quota of fucking up homeless people at this point so I decided to take it easy on them for a while. I moved on and started to look for clues pertaining to the whereabouts of the FLAMING agents. I was going to go to a newsstand and ask if the guy had seen any Mexicans around but I knew that would futilely lead me down a million and a half wrong paths. I felt a bit famished and I know that it's not good to take anti-paralysis syringes on an empty stomach so I headed up to the McDonalds at the top of the escalator. While I was standing in line I remembered what Maddox had said about the whole "ailing vomit" thing so suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore. I decided to just try to extract information from the workers. Unfortunately all of the employees at Union Station McDonalds are dumb foreigners who don't know their green card from a McNugget so they were no help. Just then, Secret Agent Girl Next to My Locker called me and told me she saw them heading for the train to St. Louis (leave me alone, I'm already completely baffled as to why I never thought of that). I ran and I ran but thanks to my limited lung capacity (a mysterious disorder), I was wiped by the time I reached them and I ran myself right into a clothesline from the fat guy. I stood up but he damn near twisted both of my nipples off and I fell to my knees in a large amount of pain. He pulled a sledgehammer out of his nasty ass crack and prepared to bash my skull in. I could see my life flashing before my eyes (except for all the times I can't remember which is pretty much every weekend for all of high school) and I knew I was done for. Out of nowhere I heard gunfire and 50 holes were through the fat man's torso in an instant. He fell over dead with a Shamu-doing-a-belly-flop type of thud. I looked to see who the gunman was and it was none other than new recruit, Secret Agent Jamal, who happened to be in town to buy 4 pounds of pot to sell out of his locker at school. I realized that this was a genius plan since Amtrak has no security whatsoever and drug trafficking would be a piece of cake. He had smoked the fat guy like a fine blunt with his stylish gatling gun. What was left of the beggars were now picking at him for an afternoon snack.
After all the commotion, I saw the little Mexican boy out of the corner of my eye. He was running for the train but I was in no hurry. Fortunately Amtrak's trademark ASD (average standard delay) was in effect at a hearty 7 hours so I knew he wasn't getting anywhere. Once he realized this, he bolted back towards the lobby and I was hot on his trail. I grabbed one of the carts that lazy fucks with way too much luggage use for toting it all, and I rolled it down the hallway. After a couple seconds it caught up with him and sent him sprawling to the floor. The cart kept rolling down the hall and blasted into a group of Boy Scouts. I guess I gave them ample chance to earn their First Aid Patch. I told them that if they wanted to feel better faster, they should go see my colleague Jamal because he had an ancient herbal remedy for them. The Mexican boy was still down for the count so I knew it was time to finish him off. I went over to one of the industrial sized 4 foot tall fans that keeps people cool while they wait in line and I took the front grating off. I struck up a cocky pose and laughed an evil "Your ass is mine" laugh. The boy tried to get away but to no avail. I grabbed him by the collar and effortlessly tossed him right into the spinning madness. Greasy Mexican chunks flew everywhere. The people that run the Gold Coast hotdog stand later came by and picked up the mess. They seemed to be enjoying it too much, almost like they had a "use" for what they were cleaning up... but that's none of my business. My work was done. Not only did I thwart FLAMING and save the Gateway Arch, I lowered the world's population by about 50. That was much-needed for sure. I met up with Jamal and Secret Agent Girl Next to My Locker again and we hopped in the Secret Agent Firebird for one incredible roadie on the trip back to Milwaukee. Jamal later only had a pound left to sell out of his locker, but it was well worth it.
FLAMING no longer fucks with guys like me