The Umpire Has No Clothes by Walter Witty

Author:Walter Witty [Witty, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Humor
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2013-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

BONUS STORY 2: Lost in Space

The International Space Station has been hijacked. We take you now to a NASA space shuttle in orbit high above the terrorist’s native Brazilian rainforest home. Spokesperson for the Quetzals, a descendant from a lost tribe of Mayans, explained her group’s goals via speaker phone from the station, now under Quetzal control. . .

“Hello, Houston,” a cheery female voice greeted those who listened with giddy apprehension. ”My name is Not Important, but you can just call me Not. Anyway, I wanted to explain what we’re doing here on this lovely Friday, just to, you know, alleviate some of the confusion you might be experiencing at the moment. As you must know by now, we have captured this bucket of bolts you have floating up here as another boondoggle to waste taxpayer’s money by over-billing, and are proceeding to install the computer guided laser that our own scientists have developed, which will shortly be able to shoot down any approaching missiles, as well as to shatter a lot of bank building windows down there whenever Wall Street acts up again. Back in ten minutes with our demands.”

At this point the radio went dead silent, and one of the three NASA janitors actually not dozing suggested they wake up Bert Schillman, the administration’s program director, if only to fill him in. Bert responded to this personal assault by firing the bearer of the news, and was just about to nod off again when the speaker next to his half eaten cheese Danish emitted an unfamiliar voice.

“Hi again,” it said. ”Not, here.”

“Excuse me?” said Bert.

“Not Important,” clarified the voice.

“What’s not important?” the director demanded.

“That would be me. And who be thee, pray tell?”

“Well, I’m no prankster, I can tell you that!” Schillman declared. ”I’ve still got a job, too, which is more than you can say!”

“Really?” said the voice. ”Are you the boss, then? The big cheddar?”

“Damn right I am.”

“Not,” said Not. ”That would be me, now. Shall I explain, or is it your intention to interrupt me at every opportunity, thereby sealing your doom?”

Rendered speechless by this odd audacity, the NASA executive switched on the video monitor linking ground control with Major Tom Gorman, a man who presently appeared to be hog tied to the station’s cappuccino machine. Next, he stared in bewilderment at the Lady Gaga clone with the wicker headdress, purple eyeliner and stylish satellite phone. Behind her floated three warrior types who looked like WWF rejects, due to a subtle geekiness that nonetheless gave Bert the creeps.

“What in the name of–” he began.

“Uh uh uh,” said Not, rocking one finger in the air and reaching for a joystick controller with her other hand. The terrorist sighed. ”I suppose you want to know all about how we pulled this off. I mean, like your Super Committee, you can’t be expected to believe your own eyes, can you? So I can’t just lay out our demands, and move this along?”

Bert shook his head once, yet vigorously.

Not sighed again, more deeply this time.

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