The Adventures of Johann Sebastian Bach – Chapter 2

Chapter 1.


Chapter 2 - Flunkies

 by Geoffrey Winssinger

So Heaven has an office in Culver City, what a big surprise, everybody else does. Why won’t they? It makes perfect sense right? They are trying to get us to buy in to their product just as much as Fox or Universal or any other media source. Coolest thing about Culver City is that there are huge freaking billboards of TV shows and upcoming movies. I mean who doesn’t want a massive billboard of Twilight blocking your house from the sun. Not only is it ironic, it is flipping awesome. I mean, if that is your house, either you’re a vampire and you bless the name that is Twilight for blocking Earth’s yellow sun, or maybe you curse it a little for making you look like a stalker Nancy boy, or even better you are Lex Luthor and that is where you are holding Superman prisoner, unable to gain strength in the shadows, heck I bet Lex funded Twilight just to build that stupid ass billboard as part of his not-so-evil plan to hold Superman prisoner, and I say not-so-evil because, really does anyone even like Superman? He is infallible, honest and good and yet totally unlikable and boring. Man, our society is in a rut. Back to the office, that is where I am, sitting in the lobby, well I am not there now, duh, but I was there then, when this part takes place.

Now, the lobby or waiting room or whatever it is called, a portal to Heaven, or even a piece of Heaven on Earth should be nicer than this place was, and it certainly shouldn’t have music by Kid Rock playing softly in the background. Well, unless that is a sly trick to keep demons and such away, cause when I walked in and heard it, I almost left. Crafty angels, always thinking this lot, right, using psychological warfare in the lobby of their own building, got to give it to them. And yet, I sit here and have to listen to it, so not sure if it’s really that great at the end of the day. And to read, Town & Country…Yeah there is no real comment to express the sadness in my heart to look at the magazines on the coffee table and only see those. I have no idea how long I have to wait, it could be a minute, it could be hours, God mother of Jesus I hope it is not hours, if anything this is purgatory. What else can I do but retreat into my mind? What am I doing here? Helping people? I need help if anyone does; I mean angels are telling me to do stuff. That typically does not end well right? Maybe I should just get the heck out of here. Go to Las Vegas, yeah, no self-respecting angel is going set one foot in that place. It’s perfect. I could be a blackjack dealer or pro poker player; it’s cards right, how hard can it be, I got brains enough to count to 21. Best part, no asshole angels getting me all messed up. Downside, I have no money, car, no nothing. Worst part about Culver City, it’s in LA.

So after just when I was about to break down and pick up an issue of Town & Country Elijah opened the door to the back.

Elijah: We’re ready for you. You can come back.

Me: What’s this all about? You better not have me fighting vampires or Lex Luthor, I mean at least not without ninja training or giving me the X-Men to use at my disposal, well not Wolverine, he is just going to make trouble, and then that affects the mission and my leadership, and…

Elijah opens the door marked “4” it was so bright it stopped me in my tracks. Do rappers see angels a lot? Is that why they were sunglasses all the time? Them and Corey Hart. Plus the walls were all white, lame and stereotypical yes, but also reflective and bright as shit, probably all part of the keeping demons out or something. My eyes are never going to adjust to this, guess I gotta bust out my shades, so I can keep track of visions in my eyes, or some such nonsense. Anyway, an angel by the name of Hamaliel was waiting for me standing behind his desk. Dude looks like a Nerdatron.

Hamaliel: Welcome, have a seat. I am Hamaliel. You are Bach. Let us begin our discussion. (Wow, this guy is going to be a bastard, I already know it.)

Elijah leans back against the wall to the side of me while Nerdatron sits down, and I sit down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. I have such a bad feeling about this. I am about to get wacked. I just know it.

Hamaliel: Do you know why you are here? (Not giving me a moment to answer) You are here to do the work of Heaven.

Me: God?

Hamaliel: To do the work of Heaven. You have been assigned to duty on Earth to assist us in our strategic assortment and deployment of activities in the method that we see fit.

Me: Why?

Hamaliel: Not important. It does not affect your willingness, as you are compliant and shall not become difficult.

Me: Oh?

Hamaliel: We have decided to birth you on a mission to Las Vegas. There is activity there that we do not abide and thus it shall be halted.

Me: You want me to destroy the whole city?

Hamaliel: Do not be foolish. You do not have the capacity to ravish an entire city nor do you have the ability to comprehend our dealings. You know not of right and wrong.

Me: So, what then, gambling, prostitution, blatant commercialism, exploiting the weakness of man for profit? What am I stopping?

Hamaliel: I miss the days when humans could not speak. They have not the make for understanding. You will turn off a portal. That is all.

Me: Just flip a switch. That sounds super easy. Do I get a stipend, you know for expenses?

Hamaliel: Easy is not the correct word. You will likely parish. But we have assigned help to you. There is a being that protects this portal. You must seize the being, cause the being to expire and lay the portal to ruin.

And like that Nerdatron sonic-boomed, only it was muted for my protection, away, probably off to be a dick to someone else.

Me: Elijah, just want to recap. I’m going to Vegas to find some evil dude, use him to find his portal, and then kill him and destroy his portal?

Elijah: You will have help.

Elijah places a bag full of clothes and money on the desk.

Elijah: This is for you to use as you see fit. And these two will assist you.

Two angels light-burst through the floor. Is it a good sign when angels come through the floor of a single story building?

Elijah: This is Samandiriel. Samandiriel will help you discover what to do, and this is Qaphsiel. Qaphsiel will help keep you safe when there is no sun.

Vampires or Lex Luthor!! Why am I so prophetic?

Elijah: Settle yourself and go. You must make haste. You have only three days before we will act in a stronger manner. You do not want that.

Light-burst, and Elijah is gone. Angels must think it is super cool to explode with light to travel, but when you are a human, and you have to watch it happen, it’s not cool, it kind of burns your eyes, even with my shades. You would think they might have the curtsy to at least warn you, allowing for you to shield your eyes. But like I said, they are kinda assholes.

Qaphsiel: Are you ready to depart?

Samandiriel: We should go now.

Me: Ok, ok, ok. Just cool your jets. We need to get a few things straight first. Names. Your names are crazy as shit. No way can I pronounce them. Not gonna even try. You are Sam and you are Teen Wolf. Second, how much money is that?

Samandiriel: It is one hundred thousand US dollars.

Me: Serious! Oh God that’s tight!

Only then I remember that I have to defeat vampire Lex Luthor and all I have are two angels who more than likely are utterly worthless, and I’m just going to get my ass kicked while they hide and call the cops, something lame like that, I bet they are flunkies just here to make me feel important, or it’s a suicide mission and this is the honorable way for them to die. Plus! They look like radioactive primitive humanoids. Cabbage-Patch Kid heads with Ken doll bodies, oozing with white light, goofy looking sons of bitches. Basically, it’s probably the design that some drunk ass angel that hates humans musta come up with, utterly suspect. Fucking flunkies! I know, I was on a good language streak, but fuck, this shit is fuck.

Me: Hmm, third, is there anyway you two can not look like retarded glow-in-the-dark Barbie rejects. You fit in about as well as I fit in playing in the NBA.

One of my more unPC statements, oh well, like any of us is clean. Sam and Teen Wolf pick up a Town & Country issue and morph themselves into two of the models. Sam’s kinda hot, yet stuck-up, and Teen Wolf looks like an enormous douche. And they are now naked with human genitalia, which is not fantastic, and yes I looked, at both, Teen Wolf must have a strong opinion of his personality because he’s certainly not overcompensating and sadly the same is true for Sam. Is it bad to have dirty thoughts about an angel?

Samandiriel: Do we please your expectations now?

Qaphsiel: How is my form?

Why do they both need to be here? Sam, she can stay, but Teen Wolf is just going to cramp my style.

Me: Fine. You both look fine. Put some clothes on.

Going to Vegas with two catalogue models with one hundred Gs sounds pretty good, minus the whole I have to find and murder some evil dude and then blow up his portal, and where does this portal go anyway, right, should I use the portal first just to see, I mean what if it goes to the Island! I would probably join the Others over the Darma Initiative, too much structure. The Others just do whatever the heck they like, well that is not really true, they are structured too, and crazy, and I just want to hang out with Sawyer and Kate, I wonder if Sam could morph into Kate, that might just do the trick, course then she would be super recognizable and blow our cover, better to be just a few wild kids out on the town, I wonder what would happen if we ran into those models that they stole their look from, would the world explode like Dr. Brown theorized, or would they just think, huh, I have a weird dumbass evil twin, even though Sam is an angel, so the model is probably the evil twin, and how can I ditch Teen Wolf.

Qaphsiel: Ready.

Me: Ok, we are spies, like James Bond Jr. I am James and you two are like my sidekick friends. I speak, you follow.

Samandiriel: Now we depart.

Me: So, do we get to transmorphize and beam there, or something. Or, or…Are you going to fly me there, cause that is cool too!

Samandiriel: Humans are not capable of these feats.

Me: Great. So, what then, we are going to walk there?

Qaphsiel: No. That would take a period of time greater than there is available for this engagement.

Me: Way to think on your feet Teen Wolf. Fine! I’ll figure something out.

Flunkies! Why do I have to battle the forces of evil and not get to do badass shit like fly and teleport? It’s just weak. No way is anyone going to rent me a car, and stealing a car is probably way harder than it seems. It looks so easy in the movies, course those dudes are equipped with the skills too. Dammit, screw Teen Wolf, John Conner would be so much more helpful right now, grownup badass John Conner coming back from the future to kill vampire Lex Luthor, that is what I need. That, or a car.

Me: We need a car. Either of you know how to hotwire one?

Sam walks right up to me, looks me square in the eyes, I kinda think we are about to make out or something. Dude, Teen Wolf needs to just get out of here, why am I even looking at him, I should just kiss this girl, damn Chris Christ I am such a lame-a-zoid, just kiss her, what is going on, she is just staring at me right in my face and now she is putting her hands on my shoulders, I really hope she does not look down, wait why is Teen Wolf coming over too! OH NO!!!

So have you ever watched Underworld? You know when Lucien turns from a human looking dude to a lycan, that shit happened to me. Only I became I blended 80s’ TV show abomination. That’s right! I turned into a fucking A-Team van that talks like Mr. Feeny.  The only thing that would have been cool about this is if Teen Wolf would have surfed on my roof all the way to Vegas, eventually loosing his balance in the desert, never to be seen again. Ok, sure being Nightrider sounds kinda cool, it’s not. Sam and Teen Wolf just sat inside me and I had to drive the whole way to Vegas. Fucking bugs hitting me in the face, rocks bouncing up, shitty ass road payment, being a van sucks complete ass. Plus, I am a VAN, I haul no ass, I had to freaking lag and job it up in the slow lane. I blame Teen Wolf for this.

It took like eight hours to get to Vegas. I feel dirtier than I have ever felt in my whole life. All the exhaust and crap flying in my face from all the traffic, I probably just lost ten years off my life. Great idea Sam, turn me into a van! That is much easier than just materializing a car that is not me or using your angel powers to fly us there or heck why did they just not give us money to begin with! I could of just bought a car for cash. That would have been super easy…WAIT…wait a minute…OH GOD DAMMIT!!! I’m so use to being super poor that I totally forgot that we have a bag full of money! I hate my life. I really do. And look at Teen Wolf, just sitting there inside me, a lot good he has been, could have just reminded me that we have money, totally cock-blocking me all the time. We’re staying a suite at the Bellagio or in some baller ass place cause otherwise I am just going back to Montana, this is terrible. If I gotta deal with this angel shit, might as well live like Diddy for a day.

We finally pull into the Bellagio parking structure. Sam turns me back into me.

Me: Sam! NEVER turn me into the A-Team van again. NEVER! Next time…

Samandiriel: We have arrived. We must proceed with the objective.

Me: You’re lucky you are money…You don’t know how money you are. (Come on, it is Vegas, this is how people talk here.) We’re checking into a suit here, I’m taking five showers, then I’m taking a nap, then, and only then, are either of you allowed to talk about objectives and missions.

I did literally take five showers, the hotel clerk was never going to give me a room the way I looked until I made it rain all over the lobby, again, I’m in Vegas, this is what people do here. And napping is one of the five best things to ever happen to me in my life. What are the other four? Good question…Probably Nirvana’s album catalogue, the existence of Asian food, Joe Sakic schooling the shit out of Scott Stevens in the 2001 Stanley Cup Finals, and the future awesomeness that is going to happen between me and Sam. You laugh. But I know that shit’s going to happen. If only I could man up or something. Well, I kinda already manned up…On to another subject, my suite’s super awesome. Plus, I made Teen Wolf stay in the closet, told him it was customary, or some such nonsense. Was going to tell Sam she could crash in my room, but wimped out a little, plus she wanted to keep watch and stuff.

Qaphsiel: Wake up Bach. We have discovered the portal.

Samandiriel: Wake up. It is time to fulfill your duty.

Me: (Just opening my eyes to see Sam’s face) Sam? Oh good you came, I was just thinking about you, come and join me…

Qaphsiel: Are you ready?

Me: Teen Wolf! Is that you!

Sure enough, asshole was sitting on the end of my bed Indian style staring at me, while Sam was standing looking down at me.

Me: I thought I told you to stay in the closet in the hall. I see that you have emerged from the closet, no big surprise, but why are you sitting on my bed?

Samandiriel: It is time.

Me: Yeah it could’ve been (Shaking my head at Teen Wolf).

Qaphsiel: The portal is coming out of the pyramid piercing our realm. The evil one is there.

Me: The Luxor…Evil one…I know who it is! Carrot Top! Has to be.

Samandiriel: We will defeat this Carrot Top.

Me: And his evil props!

True enough, the Luxor does have a beam of light shooting into the sky, and coincidence that “Luxor” and “Lex Luthor” contain many of the same letters, I think not, I just have a natural talent for these things. Though, if Superman is really being held captive, probably won’t save him. He needs to stay captured. Hmm, unless he is really an angel, and humans just called him Superman, not knowing what else to call him, or that name might have arisen in some old translations or something. I heard that the word angel was mistranslated way back from a word that really meant superhuman. Superhuman does not really have the connotation of good or evil like angel does, and that totally makes sense, cause I don’t really get the feeling in my, all be it limited, interaction with them that they are all necessarily good, at least in the definition that Christendom regards as valid. I mean Satan is an angel after all right. Anyway, not rescuing that dude, I don’t trust him, plus who needs a douche that’s always right around, I bet he’s a huge tool all the time, like if you really get to know him and spend time with him, no way he isn’t.

Me: Ok, Sam you’re with me, we’ll find Carrot Top. Teen Wolf, you figure out a way to turn off the portal. Break. Oh, and Teen Wolf, keep it on the DL, please, last thing we need is Vegas security arresting us and feeding us to Carrot Top in his pre-show smoothie. Just act like a human (Probably asking too much, but just gotta put it out there). Sam let’s go.

Sam and I head up the escalator to the Carrot Top auditorium. I really don’t feel optimistic about this, finding Carrot Top and all, no way he’s just going to be out in the open. And as we get to the top of the escalator route, there he is, just standing there looking scary and evil, also known as just standing there signing autographs.

Me: Ok be cool…Be cool. That’s Carrot Top.

Samandiriel: That man is not who we are looking for. I do not see his aura to be non-human.

Me: No I am sure he is evil. We better capture him to be safe.

Samandiriel: I will not harm an innocent human.

Me: Innocent! Look at him! Tell me he isn’t evil.

Samandiriel: He is not evil.

Me: We’ll see about that…Carrot Top you evil motherfucker! I’m coming for you!

Note to future Vegas and Luxor visitors, don’t yell out “evil motherfucker, I’m coming for you!” inside the casino, directed at one of the “stars” cause yeah, the casino Po-po will be on you like me with an axe on Barney, fuck that purple asshole teaching children to read and be literate. You just know, despite killing him with an axe being fairly cliché, that once he does teach the ghetto children to read he fucking eats them, cause who gives a shit about ghetto children, not our government, not Bono, well not in private at least, motherfucker spends all his time making music and saving the world and yet everyone thinks he is a huge darsh, like if Bono cured AIDS, everyone would still think, yep he gave all the children of Africa Magic Johnson money and effectively “cured” AIDS and yet he is a piece of shit, I hate Bono. Barney is like Bono, only he eats the ghetto children. Not sure what Bono does, but the fact that there is just something not right about him, despite his charity, makes me think he is up to something. Therefore, Barney can eat them, get paid, look like a decent dinosaur, and get away with it, clean, cause no one really cares. Anyway, anyway, anyway, don’t attack a hotel employed ass-hat like Carrot Top, cause the pigs rain down upon you.

Me: Come on Sam, let’s get ‘em!

Sam did not follow me as I ran towards Carrot Top, who surprising looked completely unfazed, like it was a common occurrence for some random dude to yell some shit and try to attack him, or he knew that there was no way I was going to make it to him. And I didn’t. Undercover casino five-oh Billy-clubbed me to the floor fast as shit. Dragged me to a holding cell, and locked me up. Sam just watched. Not sure if I won points for bravery and courage or lost them for stupidity, I’d like to think the former. Sat there not but ten minutes when Sam was dragged in, her hands shackled in iron clamps. Apparently iron is like angel kryptonite, who knows why.

Me: Sam! Are you alright! What happened!

Sam is thrown in the cell with me. It’s evident that the iron is causing her great pain as she collapses onto the floor.

Samandiriel: The iron. It makes me weak.

Me: I’ll try and get them off.

I try to get them off, but it’s just not going to happen. Sam passes out. I look up and see Carrot Top standing in front of the cell.

Carrot Top: What’s your deal bud? Why’d you wanna attack me? I don’t even know you. Do I?

Me: I’m sorry man. I thought you were a dark angel or something, or a demon, maybe just like an evil monster thing in disguise.

Carrot Top: Oddly, I kind of get that a lot. Comes with the look I guess. Is your friend alright?

Me: No. I don’t think so at all. Can you help us? I need to get these clamps off her, she is allergic to iron.

Carrot Top: She is! Guard! Guard, we need some help in here!

A random guard looking dude enters.

Carrot Top: Get these cuffs off her, she is allergic to them.

Me: Thanks! I’m so sorry…

The room fell dark, green eyes glaring at me, suddenly I hear a slashing sound, glistening flashes of light, and liquid splashes on my face. The lights come up, Carrot Top and the guard are gone, but blood and human debris collage with the floor, ceiling, walls, and my face. Nothing else is there. Sam is still breathing, but she is pale and needs help. Casino guards pile into the room, each with a more terrified expression upon entry.

Me: Help…Help me.

I can barely make the words come out. A guard pukes. They stand in silence, all staring at me. I notice the cell door is open. Wait, the blade is in my hand. I can smell a foul stench, not left by the mess, but something I can’t describe, a lingering breath. They think it was me. They each begin to reach for their sidearm. I’m not long for this world. I look back at Sam. I’m scared, but I still feel sad that I can’t help her. They’re aiming at me. Any moment they’ll open fire. My life does not pass before my eyes. I just wish I could’ve lived up to what Elijah sees in me, for I don’t see it in myself. Any second now! I’m not brave. I cower, and look away. I can’t face it. CRASH!!! Teen Wolf, looking like fucking Teen Wolf from Teen Wolf Too, sunglasses and all, but more massive and powerful, blows through the wall engulfing the entire brigade smashing them all against the other wall rending them all disabled. It is the single greatest thing I have ever seen.

Qaphsiel: We need to get to the portal. Only you can disable it.

Like I’m able to talk at this moment in time:

Me: Ummmmmm...Ummmmm…

Teen Wolf sees the iron on Sam’s wrists.

Qaphsiel: We need to get that iron off Samandiriel or we must leave her here, with the iron she is too weak to serve her purpose.

Me: Ummm…No, we’re not leaving her (I snap out of it). Look for a key of some sort.

Qaphsiel: There are only keys that go to hand-cuffs. These are specifically for angels, someone knew we were coming.

Me: Then you’ll carry her.

Qaphsiel: She will slow us down. The sun is almost up. We can come back once the mission is complete.

Me: We’re not leaving her, now help me.

I know right, I sound like a badass Hollywood action hero or something. But what can I say. She’s cute. Makes you do crazy shit.

Teen Wolf throws me a shirt he rips off an unconscious guard. It’s crazy to look at him and sorta terrifying, he’s like eight feet tall.

Qaphsiel: Wrap her hands in this.

Teen Wolf carries Sam. I woulda but shit he’s like twenty five million times stronger, so why not let him. We make are way out of the casino police area.

Me: Where’s everyone? Guess you smashed them all back there. Where’s the portal? You find it?

Qaphsiel: It is in the tip of the pyramid.

Me: Wait, look this door says “4” on it. I feel like this is the way.

Opening the door I get and odd sensation and SWOOP! I’m sucked in and up cascading to probably my doom, shit it has to happen today, no one is lucky enough to survive the shit I just did back there. Didn’t die, instead I find myself in the portal room. Remember the room at Wolfram & Heart’s LA Office that was all white where the conduit was? This room reminds me of that room.

Something passes through the portal. PLOOP!

Me: HEY! Wait!

Then, Teen Wolf joins me. He lays Sam down.

Qaphsiel: You found it.

No big deal. It was pretty easy.

Me: I just saw something pass through the portal, but it was shrouded in darkness (I know, shrouded in darkness, fucking cliché, but it freaking was!).

Qaphsiel: Destroy it.

Me: Right. How am I doing this?

Teen Wolf looking at me like I’m maybe the most worthless, useless thing he has ever laid eyes on:

Qaphsiel: If I knew, I would destroy it myself. Elijah picked you. You are the one that must do it.

Me: Well shit, here goes nothing.

Never going to guess what I did, I punched the portal. I punched a watery looking transportative surface. My hand broke the plain, it felt icky, and nothing happened.

Me: Great!

Qaphsiel: Did you just punch it! What kind of plan is that?

Me: A bad one? Wait! HAHAHA! I fucking know what to do! Go find some iron, wrap it up so it doesn’t put you in a wolfy comma and bring it back. I’ll stay here and protect Sam.

Qaphsiel: You want me to get you a piece of iron? Why?

Me: Just do it. I’m Neo, remember. Not you.

And like that, Teen Wolf was gone, leaving me all alone with Sam, looking like she was on the precipice, us just hanging out in evil central. Only, my only means of protection is in an iron induced comma and the dark shadowy dude could come back any minute. And he did.

Me: SHIT!!! Sam you gotta wake now! I really need you.

The dark figure approaches. I’m scared. I begin to shake Sam, she needs to wake up and help me. I’m feeble; I have no power within me. I put my hands upon her arms.

Me: (Whimpering, dude I was scared, dudes whimper, it happens, it’s just not me) Sam please, please help me.

The darkness cloaks around me. I try to shield Sam with my body. I close my eyes. A day like today, it was only a matter of time I guess. I’m defeated for sure this time.

Qaphsiel: ISRAFIL!!! Step away!

TEEN WOLF, motherfucking Teen Wolf! Fuck everything I said before. This dude! This dude is tight as shit. This dude is a bad motherfucker man. Teen Wolf charges Darkwing Duck (Israfil) knocking him to the floor. Evil dude sort of looked like a duck close up, and was wearing just the same hat and a purple shirt, and was caped in darkness.

Qaphsiel: Are you ok Bach?

Me: Yes.

Darkwing Duck regroups.

Israfil: Qaphsiel, the night is waning, dawn breaks, you are finished.

Darkwing Duck almost seems to glide across the floor, like fog on a damp morning. I can tell than Teen Wolf is getting weaker, his robust appearance diminishes with each passing moment. Darkwing Duck lifts him off the ground and hurls him across the room into the far wall. Teen Wolf struggles to regain his footing. This is not looking good. I remember the dirt on my face being transformed into a car. Somehow Sam did that to me. There must be away she can transform me into something that can help. I put my hands on her shoulders, as she lay there, barely still alive, and I imagined a way to help. I imagined I was Taurus Bulba, nemesis of Darwing Duck, in his Steerminator form no less, but Sam even in her comma-like state had a better idea. My right hand became a key. Good thinking right. Glad one of us has a brain. I unlocked her clamps with my skeleton key hand, which really grossed me out to look at it, but hey this is war, so I pushed through. I took the clamps in my hands and backed away from Sam, giving her space to awaken without me leering over her. Darkwing Duck turned to see Sam standing in all of her radiance.

Israfil: Until next we meet.

And like that, Darkwing flapped his dastardly wussy ass back through the portal.

Me: I know what to do!

I took the iron clamps, ran up to the portal and chucked them into it. A stroke of genius, I know right. The portal discombobulated and collapsed in on itself, and was nice enough to leave a parting gift – an energy pulse that knocked me back like ten feet. And you guessed it, back in the hospital once again. Rocking it with angels is just not going well at all for me. But on a side note, Sam did thank me for helping her and kissed my cheek!! So, good stuff too, that’s right, I’m in like Flint!

The Adventures of Johann Sebastian Bach – Prologue/Chapter 1

By: Geoffrey Winssinger

Prologue:

What up? I guess I should begin with the beginning stuff that people begin with when meeting people or something, introductions, and you know I guess that starts with names. I do not really care what yours is but I’m Johann Sebastian Bach. Suppose to be named after some famous person or something; my parents watch a lot of TV so it is probably some stupid dude from a show they like or something. And what’s weird is my parents’ last name is not even Bach! It’s Wilson. Anyway, everyone calls me Bach, better than Wilson I guess, specially after that skeletal Hanks movie, who wants to be named after a sport you wear knee pad in, not me. Plus, who could survive a plane crash into the ocean, the passengers of flight 815, sure, but there was voodoo involved, but I guess when you Gump it up, crazy stuff just happens, and you just live through it. Anyway, things are already getting away. Age is pointless to the story so you can just throw one on me at your digression should you need to, but yeah I am old enough to talk and walk and think, well to some extent anyway, but maybe that is all relative. I am from the past headed to the future trapped in the present, aka Bozeman. What else is there to tell, probably buckets, but you will figure it out as it goes or just project shit onto me, either way is fine, it does not affect me, not where I am.

So yeah, first job I ever had was at Wal-Mart. Pretty surprised they hired me in the first place. I mean, I do not really strike myself as Wal-Mart caliber, probably a compliment. So why’d I even apply? Easy, bored, yeah that’s a lie, I’m not really qualified for anything other than the mindless tasks of a moron so that sort of limited my options. Plus, Wal-Mart apparently does not have high standards for hiring practices, case in point me, so while I applied at more fun places, GameStop, Blockbuster, Sam Goody, Wal-Mart was the only one willing to commit me to a life of underpaid low class slavery with a smile. Didn’t last too long though, kinda thought start time was more of a general arrival time than like a definite, you need to be here punched in by this time exactly or you are late, time, also a lie, but hey you gotta tell‘em something full of shit, I mean they already think you’re a moron, so why not play that card. So yeah, first day, totally late ass, like my shift started at eight AM, got there at like twoish, you know, more of a night owl, so I cannot just sleep on a dime like a robot or something. When you sleep at three in the morning, you don’t really get up until noonish to twoish. Really, by the time I went to sleep, I thought I got to work in a fairly timely, if not impressive, fashion. Manger did not see it that way:

Manager dude: Bach! You are so flipping late (who says flipping by the way?)! What the hell are you thinking!?! This is Wal-Mart! Wal-Mart! You just do not show up late, on your first flipping (there it is again) day! Not here! What do you have to say for yourself? Why should I not fire your dumbass right now?

So, and this is for, you know, future reference, cause it works great in these situations, this is how you should always answer a figure of authority, be it positive or criticism being spouted at you, well the first part anyway:

Me: First off, go fuck yourself (gotta start strong, and this is hard as shit right), second, fuck Wal-Mart (not original, but still awesome), and third, your knowledge is like my pinky in comparison to the rest of my body (not that deep, I know, but roll with me), you don’t know how hard I am, you don’t know shit (eloquently put as ever), your fucking knowledge is a fucking pinky compared to the vast fucking (wonderful word, yet we often seem to get stuck on it like a repetitive cycle, you’ll see, now that it’s started, F-bombs be a dropping) intellect of my fucking hardness, assclown (ok I didn’t say assclown, but it just came to me now), shut the fuck up, what do you even know, who the fuck are you to even know anything about me, look at you, manager of a slum district, wonderful achievement, fuck this, Bach out! (Yeah, not extraordinary proud of the whole “Bach out” thing, but I said it, so I gotta live with it).

So I walked on out of Wal-Mart three minutes into my first shift. Would have been tight as shit if the whole store just exploded behind me as I walked back to my car, cinematic and shit, right, well I guess minus the innocent people being exploded too, that would be lame on them, but fuck that manager dude, he is not innocent in this, he knew what he signed up for, you just don’t become a prostitute and don’t expect to get fucked, or something like that. And I know, I know, I am probably a prostitute too in all this, yes I did become a Wal-Mart employee, but shit man, there is not much out there or some such excuse, I make bullshit money that I don’t really get by on, so fucking Wal-Mart employees under the thumb of management assholes are innocents, except me, cause I blew ‘em up, cold as shit.

Anyway, what is the point of all this, well, because I lost my first job, thank you Christopher Christ, could have been a Goddamn plantation worker and shit, I kind of went the Franz Kafka path and changed up my shit. Powered only by my own will, like I am some sort of action hero or something right, powered by my own will, what kind of asshole says that shit, well me, but fuck that, powered by my own want to not be a tobacco farmer circa 1800, I decided to mutate myself and become an X-Man! As badass as that shit would be, not Cyclopes,  fuck him, but like a cool character like, oh I don’t know, not Wolverine cause that is way to obvious and plus you would have shitty dreams all the time and fucking Sabretooth always trying to bite your ass, and who really needs that shit, maybe just like a character that is laid back and not super involved in the drama, like Morph, yeah I know he was created for the cartoon and shit, but fuck that, I am a child of the revolution, like Egon said, fucking print is dead and shit, course he fucking gets killed, so not him, not Iceman, he is a huge douche, not Colossus, I mean he is badass, but there’s the whole Russian thing, nothing wrong with being Russian, but I don’t want to end up in an interment camp encased in indestructible jello shit, so I cannot metal Hulk up and break out, when Cold War dos breaks out, and oh yeah it’s coming, it so fucking is, oh fuck yeah I got it, Forge, I am fucking Forge, that would be sick, I, getting back to the point, am not literally Forge, even though I totally wish I was, cause shit that would be cool. But in a way, well not really, but in a way I am an X-Man. I do not have superhuman powers, well I have the superhuman power of not being a subhuman assclown Wal-Mart manager, but I can still help people, and get into shit loads of trouble doing it. Can you say assclown on TV? Not like cable, The Shield type badass cable, but with commercials, TV, I mean like Fox is a huge piece of shit network asshole TV. Cause if you can, then I rescind it as a valid insult, cause if you can say it on network TV then just about any asshole can say it, and then all the mystic is gone, and with the mystic, as we all know, goes the fun. So I guess, since I don’t fucking know the answer, can’t just Google it where I am, I am putting it on the shelf, in the potentially douche face words box. So yeah, anyway, totally get sidetracked all the time, I am like a sixteen-year-old girl raised on text messaging, like O M G you guys, you guys seriously, LOL, my face just melted off! That just happened type shit, like one minute I am a rocket ship rocketing to rock and then I am I don’t know doing something else totally random that I cannot think of at the minute, hand-dancing, I am fucking hand-dancing. Time fucks your brain up, so you know just bear with me and shit. So, I almost worked at Wal-Mart, got fired, and was put on a different path, BAM, you could of just read that sentence and saved like ten minutes of random nonsensical shit. Plus like, I am trying to figure out how best to tell these stories and how I got here. Should it be all super hard third person, i.e.: Bach, the super genius badass dude, walked through the door of the death-prison Wal-Mart, saw the evil sorcerer and wielded his sword like vocabulary and word play straight ass-whooping the scumbag to its brutal and humiliating defeat. Bach stood proud as Kitty Pryde joined his side in triumph! I just do not know if I can a) pull that shit off the whole time, though it is pretty freaking sweet, and b) not come off like overbearing douche tube, like Iceman’s face in the movies, I just cannot help it, look at the dude, probably not even human, he is a fucking Terminator robot sent back to kill John Conner, I fucking know that shit is true. Anyway, anyway, anyway, Jesus mother of God can I stay on topic for one freaking sentence, I am on a new path, begin:

Chapter 1 – In the City:

In the city, city of Compton, in the city, good’ol Watts, in the city, of LA, we keep it rockin’, we keep it rockin’, shake, shake it baby… and I got punched in the face.

So here I am, in LA. Kinda awesome, kinda piece of shit, but damn have they got good food. It is almost tolerable to put up with the crazy stupid shit here just for ramen and delicious Yu Ke Jang, almost. Someone needed my help, so here I was. Course it was a young girl, wouldn’t be a story worth telling otherwise, freak sweet-ass dude like me rescuing some young girl in trouble, classic story right. Yeah, didn’t quite go that way. I mean, when does it ever go “that way”, at least it doesn’t for me. First thing that popped into my head when I got the call, well first thing was the call… second thing that popped into my head was Angel! Vampire with a soul saving LA, kicking demon ass, I so hope I do not have to fight a demon, I am a scrawny dude, like Hanks in the Wilson love story, that dude could kick no man’s ass, except probably mine, LA is starting to sound like a bad decision, and yet here I am. First mission, no experience, no obstacle course overcome, no tactical training, no martial arts training, no formal schooling, and come on do you really consider the Montana State education system adequate schooling? Shit, I am not even a good detective. Some jerk face stole my pizza in kindergarten, saw the dude do it, and still could not prove it. The power of, “I didn’t do it” boggles my mind. Yet, here I am. They told me to look for a girl named Dana Barrett, yeah I know right, like I am Pete Venkman or something, age twenty two, she needs my help. Where to start?

Phone book! Solid right, fucking hard-boiled and shit, maybe I am a detective after all, so got this down, cept she is not in the phonebook. Ball sauce! I so need a laptop with Wi-Fi, not just because it would probably help me a whole lot, but because it would just be tight as shit. Could steal one I guess, like Best Buy employee’s really have the mental capacity to stop me, though I am pretty sure they harvest spawns of Satan in those places, and there sure are a lot of Best Buys in LA, I bet that Dana is being scarified to Best Buy spawned Satan right now, and I bet all the Best Buys are connected by some sort of evil portal transporter system or something Romulan cloaked in the store room, bastards! So I guest I need to find a Best Buy, sneak into the store room, reverse engineer a way to use the transport system to transport me to the location of the Satan spawn and save Dana and the day! Again, sure would be nice to have the internet right about now. Sure, you say, just rock it at an internet café, and so right you are, but I am an avenger, wait, no fuck that, I am not an avenger, in all forms, the avengers suck, especially the British film version one with Bond Connery, strike avenger, replace with Batman, and Batman does not carry cash, no pockets, well I have pockets, but still Batman has no money on his person. Stealing a laptop is really the best way, Best Buy is the best answer, I totally can kill two stones with one bird. And it is fucking LA, I just need to spin in a circle three times and click my heels and a fucking Best Buy will appear. Sure enough, that totally worked, fucking asshole Geek Squad just drove by. So I follow them.

And wouldn’t you know, stupid ass mall right around the corner with a beacon of hell Best Buy right there at the entrance. Totally, yes I realize that I am using it a lot right now, but I am in the Valley, fucking deal with it, rocking my shades inside, first off it is hard as shit to wear sunglass inside, second, on a more practical note, they cannot scan nor steal my soul through my eye portals with my shades on. I got this shit locked down. I so would of solved the case of the Maltese Falcon in the first twenty-five minutes, no doubt. I think they suspect something; the succubus guarding the door looked at me funny as I walked in, just gotta act normal like some moron that would actually shop here.

Me: Oh wow, the new Miley Cyrus album, tight as heck! I just know this is gonna rock, yeah! (And not just like a normal “Yeah!” I am talking like the “Yeah!” from Flash Gordon when he wins the day, you know, gotta sell it).

That totally fooled the shit out of them; they don’t suspect a thing. I am like Tom Cruise, nothing can stop me. Look at all the laptops. The floor models appear to be locked to the display cases, like that will stop me for one second, I gotta get to the store room anyway, loads of unguarded laptops there. Plus, with my generation’s inferred knowledge of computers, I can probably just open it right out of the box and hack their transport system no problem. So I notice that the druids that work here all wear blue, and as luck would have it, my shirt is blue too, now this did not just dawn on me like a gift from Christopher Christ himself, oh no, some slug asked me if I knew where the HDMI cables were located at, and I said aisle six, but secretly I have no idea what an HDMI cable even is, so jokes on that dude, but to my benefit, I now know I look just like a dude who works here, not a compliment sure, but I will take it. And there it is, behind the washing machines, the storage room, a door marked “6”.

So it was locked. Not the only trick I have up my sleeve though; check this Roy Dillon shit out:

 Me: Hey I totally forgot my stupid key at home, I feel like such a fool. First day and the boss dude is already going to put me on his shit list, fantastic.

Other, actual, Best Buy employee: Oh hey, no problem bro, got you covered.

And yes, he did just unlock the door for me. I cannot make this shit up. That is how easy it is to break into the Best Buy store room. First, it is super bright in here and there are security cameras everywhere. Second, drat! All the shit is locked up in cages like wild animals or something. Oh well, that was a sub-mission anyway, got to stay on point. Need to find the transport. There is a cage at the end of the hall that is open, cage number six, that is probably it; they are probably preparing to transport some evil shit or something for the sacrifice ceremony. The cage is empty, who else actually thought the shit would be cloaked? Strangely though as I feel around for it, I cannot grab anything, it is like the cage is just empty. I probably look like some old blind dude that dropped his cane.

Best Buy Manager: Can I help you? What in the world are you doing?

Stupid ass managers!

Me: Yeah it is my first day working here, I am lost, I am looking for the… the… ummmm, the HDMI cables, a customer asked about them, and we were all out of them on the floor, so I came back here to get some. (You know that was slick!).

Best Buy Manager: HDMI cables… you do realize that this cage is empty don’t you?

Bullshit it is empty! But what am I suppose to say here, but I do have the job of a moron so might as well go with it.

Me: It did not appear to be empty when I came down the hall, and then when it was empty, I thought to myself what a cool and unusual optical illusion it was, and thus I was inspecting it further to see just how the illusion was achieved. (High-five to myself, figuratively, of course).

Best Buy Manager: Oooookkayyy? I’m going to need you to come with me.

Totally got out of this one, he doesn’t suspect a thing, now that he has his back turned I am totally going to do some sick Solid Snake shit on him and knock him out. Or I could just follow him into his office where the police are waiting. I could just do that. Le Poulet! What kind of asshole calls le poulet on you? Totally rhetorical, of course.

Never been in handcuffs in the back of a squad car before, not the most fun thing in the world, on the flip-side though, Nirvana’s Heart-Shaped Box is playing on the radio, so at least not all is lost. Poor Dana Barrett, going to get turned into a dog and I couldn’t stop it, should of crossed the streams or something.

On the outside of the police station there is a big sign that reads “To protect and serve”, kinda cool, if the Fuzz didn’t already have it, I might of used it for my slogan, but I wonder why there is no who in there. Who do they protect and who do they serve. You would think that it might be a good idea to have that clarified right. I mean for all we know they protect Skynet and serve robot Shawn Ashmore and John Conner is toast. I am telling you, that shit is true. So here I sit in booking, waiting to take some sick ass mug shots, can’t decide on what face to make yet, but it is going to be good, something edgy, yeah, edgy, just of the sound of it makes the establishment shake in fear of the coming rebellion, on the other hand, edgy has kind of being unhinged by the douche movement adopting it as their look, so maybe I will just look blank, like I could care less if the whole police station exploded in a cocktail of pineapple death or if nothing happened at all, it wouldn’t matter to me one bit either way. Not all bad though, there is a kinda cute girl sitting at the desk next to me also waiting to be processed, biting her lower lip, should I be interested, she is a criminal after all, but hell so am I right, that is like the best icebreaker ever, “So, what’re you in for?” BAM, conversation ensues. Some stupid five-o approaches in a tie, like that dude ever really wanted to wear a tie in his life.

Officer of the law: Miss Dana Barrett (DUDE! I am like Magnum P.I. minus the moustache)? It says here that you are being harassed by your neighbors?

Dana: Yes, they will not leave me alone. Plus there are weird sounds coming from their basement. It is sort of creepy.

Officer of the law: What kind of weird sounds?

I know, I am totally eavesdropping, but it is pertinent to my case, so I gotta, oh yeah and by the way, just fill in the details that apply to how you want to see things, I just find it is easier that way, I mean where I am, shit is foggy, so if I miss something, just you know use your imagination.

Dana: Like (yeah, remember we are in LA, people say like a lot) weird, I don’t know, machine sounds.

I really hope I do not have to battle Cyborg Ashmore. She probably shouldn’t of said machines, fucking Fuzz are going to drop a dime on her.

Officer of the law: Well miss, until there are more complaints we cannot really do much, but if it continues you are more than welcome to file another report. Maybe you just want to get some earplugs or something.

Dana: But they leer at me too. They watch me through the windows.

Officer of the law: Again, can’t really do much. I suggest you close your blinds.

Dana: Well…

She looks pretty disenfranchised, sort of like the time I first saw a real Big Mac in comparison to its picture on the menu. And she is leaving, which is not good, because I need to help her, but I am handcuffed to the chair. Kitty Pryde would so rock in this situation. Or even Chevy Chase, that dude has every superhuman magical ability you can think of, how else do you explain the fact that he still have a viable career to this day, if not even a successful one at that. Chevy would have me outta here in a jiffy. And she is out the door, stupid handcuffs and their stupid ability to make me not be able to leave. And then I remembered! I have the smallest hands and wrists in the world, infants have bigger hands than me, ok not true, but I said it to make a point, being I can probably easily slip my hand out of these things like Houdini. But I can’t and she is practically to her car, at least I think she is, she has her keys out of her bag in her hand, so it must be near, I am so fucked. Remember how I said I was sort of like an X-Man, but not really, but sort of, well that is true, or at least it is now, because I was able, feeling like I was defeated, to reach down within, like some sappy inspirational movie-of-the-week, and embrace my calling, and yes season one of Tru Calling was terrible at first and got better with time, and like that, I slipped the handcuff. Not sure how, at least I wasn’t sure then, but I did it, I stopped trying to do it and did it. Fucking magic hands! I got up, no one seemed to really give a shit, since, had I been a criminal, I would have been handcuffed to the chair unable to get up and walk out the door. Caught up to Dana, quick note, do not run up or sneak up on someone that is in distress, she hit me with her hand bag, fucking make up and whatever else woman shit she’s got in there freaking hurts like shit.

Me: Dana. I’m Bach. I’m here to help you. (You would think I could come up with better dialog, but that is what I said, in retrospect, I guess I could just alter it to be better, but that is cheating, though I totally should of said, “Come with me if you want to live”).

Dana: You are here to help me? Right…

Me: I know you are skeptical. Elijah sent me to help you.

Oh yeah, so Elijah is this kinda super pompous angel, not really sure if there is a non-pompous angel, so maybe he is not pompous relative to the others, but relative to me, he is bombastic, who informs me of who I am suppose to help. He pretty much just kicks me in the face knocking out everything other than my mission. Not that pleasant really, you would think angels would be pleasant. But they really aren’t.

Dana: Who is Elijah?

Me: He is just this angel, he told me to help you, I travelled from Bozeman to find you, I found you. Now I am supposed to help you.

Dana: Angel? Bozeman? Wait, angel?

Me: Yes, angel, you know like flappy God creature. And yes Bozeman, it’s a town in Montana. Big sky country.

Dana: Ok, that is just crazy. You need to get away from me. First my neighbors and now you…

Me: I know. Your neighbors are planning to abduct you. Elijah told me. I thought maybe they were Best Buy employees but that may have been a dead end, the jury is still out.

Dana: They are going to abduct me? Best Buy?

Me: I know it all sounds crazy but I need to stay with you to protect you.

Dana: Oh yeah, like that is going to happen. Listen I am leaving. You’re not coming with me.

Me: Wait, it’s not like I can just call to the Lord and poof a freaking angel appears attesting to my story. But you need to believe me. I know you are Dana Barrett, age 22, you like unicorns with purple, not pink, striped horns and for some unknown reason buy a bag of Funions everyday and only eat two chips.

Dana: So you are a stalker too, great this gets better, a crazy Christian freak is stalking me.

Me: I am not a stalker those were some of the clues I was given to find you. Umm, oh yeah, the authentication phrase, Elijah told me to tell you this and you would believe me. When you were six you saw a lady in an orchard covered by white light and then she was gone. Later, that same lady appeared to you and touched your hand and you felt joy, not Funion’s joy, but real joy, and then she was gone.

Dana: How did you know that! No one knows that. I don’t even remember that! But it happened, you recounting it, I know it happened. Ok, so just how are you suppose to help me?

Me: Pompous angel didn’t tell me. Said I would know what to do on my own.

Dana: Great… well, I guess you’d better come with me. But I really only half trust you. I certainly will mace you if I feel at all nervous.

Me: Please don’t mace me. Not the most fun thing in the world.

Who else is surprised she believed me? I still am, even now.  So I got in her car. And we drove back to her place.

Dana: So why were you chosen to be this angel flunky guy?

Me: Funny that you put it that way, cause that’s exactly how I feel. I mean yeah, I probably had a choice. Angel can only kick you in the face so many times before they just spite you and move on. But, I just felt like I wanted to do something better with my life than just waste away ringing a cash register or something. (God I hate when I sound like a Lifetime movie!)

Dana: I get that (Stupid expression). I came out here pretty much because I thought Wisconsin freaking sucks, LA rocks. Found out that LA pretty much sucks even harder. And you think the sunshine year-round would keep you happy when all it really does is just keep you feeling trapped. (This is quickly turning into a sad-bastard EMO song, I can just feel it).

Me: Yeah (The typical answer of the person who has lost interest in the conversation).

Dana: I just want to leave, but I don’t want to go back to Wisconsin…

And thank Christopher Christ we are at her house, for once I actually want to the action to start. And by action, I mean, any action I can get. Wow, yeah, I just said that. Well, thought it, but sleazy award applicable none the less.

Dana: Well here we are, me casa (Is random Spanish words in an English sentence an LA thing?).

Loud music is blaring from the neighbor’s house, Tupac and Dre I think. I turned my back on the house.

Me: Do they really need the music to be that loud (Like I am eighty or something, those darn kids and their darn music, darn them).

Dana: Bach look out!

And I got punched in the face by one of the neighbors. It was a good shot too. Knocked me clean out. Well, that first punch didn’t. I, like a moron with too much pride and little sense, stood up. Unintelligibly told Dana to run, to which she responded with, “What?” and then I saw all five of her neighbors in druid cloaks, and what looked like blue undershirts of some kind, but who knows, they looked bluish, and without thinking, cause if I was, I certainly would not of done this stupid shit, I charge the lot of them, dammit I wish I woulda yelled “FREEDOM!” or something sweet like that, but I just sort made a garbled sound and charged, didn’t even hit nothing, tripped, fell, got picked up by a big guy, and punched in the face again. This time, I was out cold in gum drops and candy cane land. When I came to, the Fuzz were everywhere. Fucking billy clubbing the shit out those bastard druids, Terminator Iceman must have other plans for Dana Barrett. As I was getting the piss beat out of me, she, being highly more intelligent than I, hid and called the cops. Who arrived, saw my limp body being mashed and opened up a can of whoop-ass. Never would of guess they would save the day, at least in a story involving me. But I still don’t trust them. Could easily still be handcuffed to that stupid chair, or in jail, and poor Dana Barrett would be Best Buy Satan’s dinner.

So I saved the day. Elijah is such an asshole by the way, oh great I am a crucial player in God’s plan, which if you translate out of angel means you are going to be beat senselessly decoying yourself so this other girl, you don’t even know, can hide and call for backup. And even better, now I am in the hospital handcuffed to the bed peeing through a tube. Brilliant!