Killer Kangaroo
by
Nathanael Smith

Bill wasn't the brightest candle on the cake. He knew that. He was fine with that. I mean, look at Mr. BossMan... He had a college education, and could manage the gang like it was a piece of dental floss. Or look at Spyder. He knew everyone. He could go anywhere he pleased, even into any other gang's turf, without being hurt. That's 'cause he knew how to keep out of people's faces.

Bill, though, wasn't like that at all. He was called "Battleship" in any encounter with a rival gang. Not wiout reason, as he could easily outmuscle a gorilla in anything but thinking. The gorilla might win that one.

"You know, someday I'm going to prove that I'm really smart." was Bill's oft-quoted line, almost his mantra. "I'm going to do something that will make the entire gang look at me with deep respect, and everyone will fear me because it's not often that you get both brains and muscles in the same person."

* * *

One evening, Bill was sitting in the gang's booth at the local bar drinking martinis. He'd downed four already when a little man in black suede smoothly slid into the booth opposite him. Bill was feeling friendly, so he merely ignored the little man, hoping that he might go away by himself. But he didn't. In fact, he appeared intent on talking.

"You know, I know some stuff." He looked at Bill from under heavy eyelids.

Bill became Battleship. Battleship grunted.

"Really important stuff, stuff that's hard to figure out."

Again, Battleship grunted. This time even less commital than last time.

"If you knew it, then people would say 'Woah, Battleship is a very smart person.' You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Battleship grunted again, but a gleam escaped through the clouds of disinterest in his eyes.

"I thought so. Hmmm... Interesting, though, I seem to have forgotten what I was going to say..." he casually folded his hands on the table.

Battleship knew what that meant. The little man wanted money. Or maybe he was just wanting to be a little drunk. He couldn't tell which, so he motioned for the waitress, ordered two more martinis, and tried to look non-chalant.

The martinis arrived shortly. They make them very well here. Very well... They would even spike the drinks, if they were paid enough.

Battleship had money, and the little man had information that he wanted, so it didn't surprise him in the least when within a few minutes of bottoming out on the glass the little man started talking. And talking, and talking.

"See hreer, yu know this town Yeah, and the places, main stee,... street... Big fence WOah!!!! Big uh... ELm street... Blig clock strikes midnight cover the deal... Very wel.. money."

On and on, again and again, repeating facts... Very disjointed, yes, but still vaguely leading to something. Maybe this man did know something that was important. Apparently, the biggest deal of the year was going to happen at Main and Elm streets, and maybe the BossMan would like to know about it.

Battleship thought about that. The BossMan would be impressd. He would be even more impressed though if Battleship took on the mob himself and brought back the goods. That would be truly impressive, and it would be fun, Bill added as he walked out the door, leaving the little man alone in the booth, still sozzled and mumbling incoherent nothings to nobody.

* * *

Eleven o'clock. One hour before paydirt. Bill was paitiently waiting for the persons responsible for this megadeal to show up. Behind him was a large, ornate wrought iron fence, filled with ivy and weird noises.

Bill put on his Battleship attitude, and carelessly flipped over the fence, one hand gripped to his uzi, the other doing the muscle work. Quickly he dodged behind a shrub (very large, please, with a double serving of density.) Carefully, he peeked his head around the side of the bush. No action now, wait. He said nothing, but silently grabbed his AK-47 from under his coat. Pre-loaded. The way he liked it.

From back near the back of this interesting enclosure there was a noise, then a dark shape shot out. Battleship leaped out from behind his cover, both guns blazing. He hit the thing while in the middle of a beautiful cartwheel, but his feet hit a branch and he fell straight down onto his head. Something vey important in his neck went "Crack," and he crumpled, an extremely large, but completely lifeless, heap.

The zoo custodian found both his body and a large dark shape (which upon closer observation looked alot like a kangaroo with an AK to the head) in the kangaroo cage the next morning.