Kickin' Ass and Taking Naps

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I'm silent.

Undetectable.

--and it was Mr. Submarine Ninja's last mistake to underestimate my stealth and guile.

"Shit!" he screams, sprawling in the darkness. "LOBO, what the fuck?"

"Doc Mike?" I says aghast. "You're a submarine ninja?"

"A what? What the hell is going on here?" he demands.

"Well, thanks to your catlike reflexes, now I have to get up to break your neck." I grunt while climbing to my feet --this martial arts stuff is really tough work. "Where are you? Hold still."

Doc flips the switch, and searing light blinds me. "C'mon Doc," I implore. "No dirty tricks. I would've expected you to die with some dignity."

"Why were you sprawled out on the floor like that in the dark?"

"You, my so-called-friend, have fallen prey to one of my deadliest moves. I call it the Bloated Starfish."

"I tripped on you!"

"Fell victim."

"Tripped!"

"Yeah, okay," I says, rolling my eyes. "Whatever".

"What have you done to your apartment?"

"I've converted it into my Dojo. I figured having a lot of trophies around would make me more menacing."

"Where'd you get them?"

"Garage sales," I says.

Doc inspects an inscription: it reads 'World's Greatest Dad'.

"So the neon sign out front that reads 'Chinese Food Restaurant' isn't a mistake?"

"That sign I stole says 'Chinese Food Restaurant'?" I says, deflated. "I was really hoping it would say 'LOBO's School of Bone-Crushing, Testicle-Ripping, Deadly Self Defense Art.'"

"No," sighs Doc. "It says 'Chinese Food Restaurant'."

"Odds were equally good," I point out, "that the sign would have read 'LOBO's School of Bone-Crushing, Testicle-Ripping, Deadly Self Defense Art'."

"It's in English too," says Doc. "Right under the Kanji."

"Maybe they're not bilingual," I offer.

"LOBO, Ethan asked me to check on you," says Doc. "Says your talking crazy. Something about submarine ninjas."

I guffaw. "Crazy like a Peking Duck Master," I point out. Cautiously I approach the window, and stare out into the inky silence. "--but they're out there. I can sense their movements." Grabbing a flashlight off the shelf, I stab light into the parking lot below and yell, "Hear that you bastards!? I can sense your movements you know!"

"LOBO," says Doc. "I think you've finally-"

"Oh my GOD," I exclaim.

"What is it?" asks Doc, startled.

"Someone opened a Chinese Food Restaurant here!"

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Katas

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Ethan calls.

Again.

Groggily, I reach for the phone.

"lobo?"

"Ethan," I says. "It's LOBO."

"That's what I said," he replies.

"Ethan, you know I'm in training. It's only 10:30 in the morning"

"So you're resting up for the submarine ninjas?"

"It's called a kata, sir," I says, setting the Cheeto bag on the coffee table. "It's a strict discipline, steeped in tradition."

"I thought today was laundry day."

"The washer is still busted," I explain. "I find it easier to just buy new clothes when the old ones get stiff."

"That's disgusting," says Ethan.

"It's a strict discipline," I explain.

"Well I'm giving you a few days off," says Ethan. "I don't want you stinking up the office, while submarine ninjas are wrecking up the place trying to pull your tongue through your keyster."

Damn, I think. I'm good.

"You don't think they will come here, do you?" he asks. "My 'lawyers' have really been packing on the pounds since they started studying your 'Peking Duck' technique. I really don't think they're up for this."

"You can take my cat Phil," I suggest. "He's a level 8."

The Art of Peking Duck

Predator Press

[LOBO]

“LOBO-san,” says the boy. “I have urgent news.”

“What is it, strange little person?” I says.

“It is I, son of Bang Ho.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Bang Ho," he corrects politely. "Grand Master of the Peking Duck!”

“That Bang Ho?” I says.

“Yes LOBO-san. He is dead.”

“No shit?”

“He and 14,004 of our Sacred Acolytes were all killed touring the White House yesterday.”

“I told them to got to the Smithsonian."

“LOBO-san,” says the boy. “I don’t think you understand. You are now Grand Master of the Peking Duck.”

My iPhone rings.

It's Ethan.

"Hey there 'Screaming Eagle' or whatever," I says to the boy, holding up a finger. "Hang on. This is important. Hello?"

"LOBO?" says Ethan.

"Yes?"

"I've started reading Predator Press, and I'm starting to suspect that what you're publishing isn't entirely true."

The boy tugs on my arm. "LOBO-san, ninja enemies of the Peking Duck are arriving on nuclear submarines. We must be going!"

Putting my finger to my lips, I give the boy the universal 'Shh!'

"I know," I whisper, leaning in close and holding the phone away.

"-Ethan is just tryin to get out of buying donuts."

Bush Finds Porno, Sexual Activity On Internets

Predator Press

[LOBO]

"My Fellow Americans," says Bush. "This morning, when checking my email, I got one from a little girl named 'Samantha' --or so it stated clearly in the 'Subject' field."

"But 'Samantha', it turns out," he continues, "Is a curvy 24 year old D-cup, and before I knew it, her magnificent, well-tattooed boobies had leapt straight through my retinas, and into my brain."

[a pause]

"Samantha," he says. "How dare you? How dare you promote your depraved naked activities in public on www.samanthaspreads.org, and send them to me over the public telephone? I, the very President of the United States, was a victim of teleboobie, right there in the Oval Office. And right in front of a tour group!"

[pause]

"Once we've closed all the popup ads and the entire tour group has been exterminated, Samantha -if, in fact that is your real name-- you will be facing Federal Trial for two counts of Aggravated Teleboobie in Abu Ghraid."

Dick Cheney Has Last Human Organ Removed

Predator Press

A happy and healthy Vice President Dick Cheney smiled and waved to the cameras as he left the George Washington University Jiffy Lube sporting his new terror fighting cardioverter-defibrillator.

"He will require some rest," explains Lead Technician Jeremy Ipswick. "But the operation went perfectly. The new cardioverter-defibrillator will have the VP fighting terror with 12% higher efficiency."

'Event of Emergency' Laminates Differ in First Class

Predator Press

During sudden decompression, traditional 'Place Oxygen Mask Over Nose and Mouth' instructions are less-than-popular among Americas' jetset.

Richie Sentenced to Four 'The NASA Life' Episodes

Predator Press


No one appeared more stunned than Nicole Richie when she was sentenced to do pilot episodes for a Fox Network reality show called The NASA Life --except maybe her own lawyer when she shot him right through the forehead with a 9mm.

"Order," demanded the judge, banging his gavel. "Young lady I said ORDER!"

Nicole, seeming to shake that spooky 'vacant' look, promisingly set the safety on her pistol and strapped it back into her thigh holster. "I'm sorry Your Honor."

"The fact that you murdered a lawyer in my courtroom won't get you any points with me today, Missy," said the judge coolly. "I'm going to make you ridicule honest and hard working middle class people for four whole episodes in space."

When asked for comment, Paris Hilton's Parole Officer claimed Paris was “already making daiquiris in the centrifuge”.

MTV 'Pimps My Space Shuttle'

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Beleaguered by accusations of sabotage and drunk driving, NASA --threatened with Federal Funding cuts and numerous parking tickets-- has decided to downgrade the expectations and pay of their most troublesome resource:

Unmarketable scientists and engineers.

"We saw this trend coming last October," says Senior Physicist Doctor Morgan 'The Mango' Therez. "And when the advertisers saw Exhibit hoist out the Discovery's engine in his garage to change the spark plugs, we knew we had a winner.”

When asked to demonstrate his scientific prowess, Xzibit drew us a diagram on a napkin. “The 'pimped' space shuttle, the EnterPlaya,” he explains, “will come fitted standard with floor-to-ceiling thick shag carpet, a kickass sound system, Xbox 360, landing gear spinners, eight waterbeds, and an aquarium. Booyaa!"

The Truth About the Rat Race

Predator Press

[Mr Insanity]

As LOBO was being arrested, Templeton peered out from under Phil’s rabies tag.

Phil, LOBO’s cat, was reading extreme signs of stress. And if Phil somehow didn’t find her way back into LOBO’s custody, poof, RDO's entire mission was a failure.

Baking in the 120 degree heat of the sunbathed car, Phil barely noticed as Templeton took flight through the cat cage bars. And perched on the bottom of the steering wheel, Templeton scanned through all data he had on internal combustion engines.

LOBO was already handcuffed and in the back seat of the squad car, but the Chick Magnet’s engine was still running; rolling down all the electric windows -the most important thing- was mere child’s play. The car would go down forty degrees within minutes.

But how was Templeton to save Phil from starvation?

Contemplating this thoughtfully, Templeton flew out the window to seek human aid, only to be promptly struck by a fateful sports car at 220 MPH. The impact ruptured the car’s radiator almost completely on impact, and caused it to limp woundedly aside less than a mile ahead.

The driver was racing from New Jersey to Las Vegas on a highly illegal and lucrative bet, and was suddenly in desperate need for an available vehicle.

And that’s how they met Jimmy Orlando.

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