Free Randal Telk and the 396 Steps to Sexual Bliss by Walter Knight, James Boedeker

determined to be the baddest , nastiest , meanest , most lethal legionnaire on the planet. For a role model , Telk studied Corporal John Iwo Jima Wayne, the current owner of that title. The spider legionnaire carried several combat knives. Of course, he had four arms, three hands , and a claw. No matter. Telk strapped three jagged Legion combat knives and a forward -curved Gurk h a Khukuri to his web gear. Telk also loaded up on grenades, and added a concealed sawed-off shotgun. Now he was ready to kick some serious alien ass and rescue the fair Elena. Before he could formulate a plan of action, another psychotic episodic fantasy overtook him...
     
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    When the War of the Worlds began, Randal Telk was at home about to drink his first cup of coffee, and doing his morning crossword puzzle. The puzzle theme was female erogenous zones, and Telk had not missed a single zone yet. The first three-legged Martian machine to appear in the neighborhood destroyed Walmart, sending fat ladies scurrying in every direction, causing traffic jams.
    Telk watched impassively out his front room window as one of the alien behemoths ambled up the street , herding the fat ladies along. Telk ’ s neighbor Eugene ran out and offered the aliens a bouquet of freshly picked flowers, but was instantly killed by the Martian death ray. That death ray made a god -awful noise, causing static on the TV and radio. Now Telk was beginning to get irritated. He lit an unfiltered cigarette, breathing out through his nose, to get back to his happy place.
    Telk was basically a live - and - let - live libertarian, and did not care much for Eugene anyway. Eugene had good weed, but he was still a worthless Democrat, always lighting candles for this or that cause. Intergalactic Space Trash moving into the neighborhood did not bother Telk much, either. The Martians were noisy and smelled bad, but Eugene wasn ’ t much better.
    However, the aliens crossed the line when their machine stepped on Eugene ’ s house, crashing through the roof. The shock wave from the death ray and vibrations from the demolition next door caused Telk ’ s coffee to spill as he put the first cup to his lips. Damn it, those assholes will pay!
    Gulping his coffee, Telk raced downstairs to his bunker armory, grabbing an anti-tank launcher and missiles, lots of grenades, his assault rifle, and a pistol. Living in Massachusetts, Telk had to get special permission for the pistol. Damn Democrats. As Telk went back up the stairs, the three-legged alien machine stepped on Telk ’ s house too, destroying the coffee machine and smashing his last pack of Camel non-filter cigarettes. Martian bastards!
    Emerging from the debris, Telk fired a missile directly up the ass of the alien machine. The mechanical beast toppled over, landing on Telk ’ s pimped-out custom camouflaged Humvee. Fat ladies scattered. It was bad enough the Martians destroyed Telk ’ s crib, but no one touche d his Humvee! Telk stood atop the downed alien machine, opened a hatch, and tossed in a grenade, finishing the space scum once and for all.
    However, the machines traveled in threes, and two more lumbered up the street. Telk dove for cover as the death ray blasted more homes. Telk ’ s cell phone rang. It was the President. Telk answered on the fourth ring.
    “ Brother Barack , I ’ m kind of busy fighting off Martians. This is what happens when you grant amnesty to aliens and don ’ t guard the border. The bastards slip in from Canada. ”
    “ I saw you kill that daddy long-legs spider on TV, ” advised the President. “ You got the first confirmed kill. Good job! Watch out, not only do they travel in packs, there ’ s a swarm of little helpers following that will try to settle up. ”
    “ Whatever. Can you air drop some smokes? I ’ m all out. ”
    “ I ’ m calling to give you a head ’ s up. We ’ re nuking Boston in three hours. You need to get out fast. ”
    “ That ’ s terrible, you can ’ t do