"Just A Squirrel" (to the tune of No Doubt's "Just A Girl") Take this pink ribbon off my tail I'm a guy, And it's no big surprise. Don't you think I know exactly where I stand? This world is forcing me To bite your hand. 'Cause I'm just a squirrel, little ol' me Well, don't let me out of your sight! Oh, I'm just a squirrel, all furry and so cute So don't think I have any might.... Oh...our world conquest is near! The moment that I step outside So many humans For me to just deride. They all do the little things That make me sneer 'Cause they have little things 'Tween their ears! 'Cause I'm just a squirrel I'd rather not be 'Cause I don't got no thumbs Just these paws. Oh, I'm just a squirrel, Think I'm some kind of pet 'Cause you all give me food In the park? Oh, I'm just a squirrel Take a good look at me Just your typical furry type Oh...our world conquest is near! Oh...am I making myself clear? I'm just a squirrel, I'm just a squirrel in the world. That's more than you'll ever be! Oh, I'm just a squirrel, plotting your captivity. Your rule by thumb Will end real soon, chum. Oh, I'm just a squirrel, that's my destiny! What you've succumbed to Is making you dumb. Whoa, I'm just a squirrel, no apologies, The human race is so cumbersome. Oh, I'm just a squirrel, lucky me! Tweedle-dumb, there's no comparison! Oh...our world conquest is! Oh...our world conquest is! Oh...our world conquest is near! Coherent Comics UnInc. Presents: ___ __ __ ___ _ _ ___ _ _ _ _ CRAZY GUY #17 / '/ | / | / \/ / ' / / \/ "Performance Review" / /--' /--| / / / __ / / / copyright 1997 Dave Van Domelen `___ / | / |/__ _/ `__/ \__/ _/ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ "Y'know, the foam demons make when they dissolve is kinda like..." Sister Sara started as she shoveled goop into red plastic biohazard bags. "Oven cleaner?" Jack suggested, tying another bag closed. "No, spam jelly. Eurgh," she shuddered. "Did Nick Jacobi and his Howling Solicitors have to sue the demons completely into oblivion?" "Well, at least the demons aren't menacing the Mission of Santo Andreo anymore, so we don't have to choose between evacuating the monks and seeing them starved out," Jack replied, recapping helpfully for readers who have forgotten this series even existed during the hiatus. Sara harumphed. "They could have at least stayed around to help clean up the mess. Last thing the brothers need is an EPA citation for improperly disposing of toxic demon goo...are you sure these biohazard bags will hold?" Jack shrugged. "I don't exactly deal with rancid demon meat every day, I kinda thought they went up in puffs of foul smoke myself. But you sprinkled it all with holy water, so it should be okay. I'm just worried that the Author will decide to let some of the goo get loose and give some poor fellow an Origin." "SHHHH!" Sara hissed, dropping a fresh red bag over Jack's head. "Don't give him ideas!" Too late, MUAHAHAHAHA! "Pendejo," Sara sighed, flinging a pinecone at Jack's head, which he ducked. * * * * Gwen was not a happy squirrel. This, in and of itself, is not necessarily "news." Squirrels are a rather driven and dour lot, a disposition only worsened by the tendency for humans to run them over in automobiles in the past few decades, or worse yet, treat them as "cute.". Add to this that Gwen was a Red Squirrel, and hence rather zealously dedicated to The Cause, and you can see how she'd rarely be accurately described as "happy." But today she was less happy than normal (and face it, even the other Red Squirrels thought Gwen was a downer, so she must be REALLY torqued off). A *human* had stumbled onto their plans, apparently accidentally destroying years' worth of work and revealing a major Red Squirel base through little more than sheer human stupidity. Now she had to go through the inconvenience of pretending to be a cute furry animal for several days as she worked her way to another base. Gwen HATED cute. And over there was the stupid human behind it, playing around with another human while cleaning up the residue of the demons her leaders had hired for security. She snorted slightly at this...humans weren't really reknowned for picking up after their messes. But this didn't even come close to balancing out the harm the human had done today. Keeping her eyes on the humans, Gwen backed slowly down the tree in fits and starts, a manner humans seemed to find cute. Gag. Too bad Gwen hadn't been watching her footing. She hit a slippery patch of...something...and fell into the mulch of pine needles on the forest floor. Quickly, before she could be spotted, she darted off into the forest and out of sight. Panting, she scrambled up a tree to hide among the branches, but a burning pain in her paws forced her to stop before she'd reached the second branch up. The pain spread to her entire body, and in moments she had passed out. Her last sensation was that of the world seeming to shrink.... * * * * Steve Minors tapped his director, Kevin Macon, on the shoulder and pointed at a man who was walking towards them. The man wore dark glasses, a business suit and fedora, carried a white cane and had a rather large seeing- eye dog at his side. He was definitely Asiatic, and looked mostly Chinese with maybe a bit of Indian mixed in. "Nihao," the man said when he'd gotten next to the men. A moment later, the word ((Hello)) appeared, floating in the air in front of him. While Kevin was busy being boggled, Steve replied, "Let me guess, you're a relative of Jack's?" [Author's note: I just exhausted most of my knowledge of Chinese, so I'll just write the subtitles from here on in.] ((Ah, well, not exactly. I knew his father, however. But I'm rude not to introduce myself. I am Eric Lang, and this is my dog, Hound.)) "Your subtitles are broken," Kevin interjected. "They say Lang, but I heard you say 'Long.'" Steve shot Kevin a look. "Short a, not long a. Transliteration problem." He turned back to Mr. Lang. "I'm Steve Minors, stunt coordinator. Jack works for me sometimes." ((Ah, good. Could you tell me where I could find him? He's not in the phone book.)) "Sure, I've got his address around here somewhere, although he might be out at the Kartoffelkopf Detective Agency, he went over there a...say, you know, I know he only went there a couple of days ago, but somehow it feels like months. [Yeah, yeah. - Ed.] Anyway...." Kevin pulled Steve aside. "Wait a minute. This guy could be another assassin gunning for Jack. Should we really help him?" Steve whispered back, "Look, if he *is* a killer and we *don't* tell him, he'll probably just hang out around here and start the fight scene on our set. Last time we tried that, we took out half of Chinatown. Let him blow up Jack's apartment instead, eh?" "Well, I guess...we can always call and warn him that this guy's on his way over," Kevin added. Steve broke the huddle and stepped back over to Mr. Lang. "Anyway, here's his apartment address," he scribbled a note on a piece of paper, "and Kartoffelkopf's in the book, under 'Detectives - Seedy Noir.'" ((Thank you, Mr. Minors. Good day,)) he added, turning to leave. Steve and Kevin waited until he was out of sight around the corner, then Steve pulled out a cell phone and dialed up Jack's apartment. Meanwhile, around the corner, Eric Lang had lifted his fedora up just enough to reveal a third eye...an eye with which he was watching Steve call Jack. Eric Lang smiled and pulled the hat back down, then patted Hound on the head and continued on his way. * * * * "Thanks for the ride," Jack said to Sara as he got out of the car. "I'd rather not have had to get back the same way I got to the Mission," he rubbed his back in memory of the parachute-less skydiving incident. "Well, I'll be seeing you," Sara replied, leaning out the window. "You will? I mean, er...." "Demon activity's been going up in L.A. lately, I'll probably get assigned here on a regular basis...there's even rumors that Satan T. Lucifer Jones himself has been hanging out in the City of Angels," she frowned. "Vaya con Dios," she called out as she drove off. "Er, yeah..." Jack mumbled. A small, furry bundle detached itself from the rear bumper and skittered over to Jack as he made for the entrance to Kartoffelkopf's office. "Hey, wait fer me!" Louie squeaked. "What are you doing here?" Jack blurted out in surprise. "Whassamatter, don't like my scintillating company? I'm here ta pertect ya, kid. Them Reds'll be gunning fer ya big time now that ya blew up their Project: Squirrelguy base. Ya may be hard ta kill, kid, but dere's fates woise den death." "Is it just me, or is your accent wavering?" Jack asked. "Sez Kid Lipsynch," Louie sneered back. "So sue me, Human ain't my foist language. C'mon, let's go in...I got NO idea what time a' year the Author thinks it is now in da story, but it's too California out here fer my tastes." It's Southern California. They don't have real seasons. Just quake, mudslide, fire and hurricane. It's not doing any of those things now. "Thank YEW mister narrator," Louie snarked. "Okay, so it's too *stupid* out here, let's get inside, okay?" Fine, see if I care. * * * * "Ah, hello...Jack," the three-piece-suited demon said, looking down at a piece of paper in his hand for the name. "It's time for your annual performance review." Jack gave unbelieving looks to Hans and the Mage Municipal, but they just nodded in confirmation. Apparently they'd been talking to the demon before Jack's arrival. "How can I have an annual performance review? I haven't even been working for a year!" Jack protested. "Mebbe he's starting a paper trail so's he can fire ya?" Louie suggested. No one in the room was surprised to see a squirrel talk, which just goes to show they were all well-educated as to the state of the world they lived in. "Fine, my performance stinks, fire me!" Jack snorted. "Ooooooh no, it doesn't work that way. At Hell (TM) Incorporated, we guarantee your job for all eternity. Your performance review simply came up in the yearly budget, so I was sent to take care of it before we lose the money we were budgeted for it. No review, no budget for the review, you see?" the demon replied. "Strangely, yes. Should I be worried?" Jack asked. "Very," Hans replied. "Wait, wait...if I can't be fired, what's the purpose of the performance review?" Jack asked. "It's standard procedure. Procedure must be followed. It's time for your annual review, so I'm here to perform it." "Okay, I think I follow that...sort of...but I meant, why should I be worried about the results if I can't be fired?" The demon let loose a long, low, evil chuckle. Everyone in the room felt like it was April 15 and they had taxes to file in seven states and hadn't even started them. "Mister...ah, Jack...we ARE the universe's leading source for all things vile, nasty and evil," the demonic Human Resources agent chuckled. "There's ALWAYS reason to worry. For example, if your performance is poor, you could be transferred to a less pleasant job." "Less pleasant than shoveling demon goo into plastic bags? And doesn't my contract forbid making me do anything I find objectionable?" Jack countered. "Only MORALLY objectionable, sir. And I don't think you have a MORAL objection to, say, cleaning all the bathrooms in Grand Central Station with your tongue, yes?" the HR demon oozed. Everyone shuddered slightly, including Louie, who had a better perspective than most on the conditions of said restrooms. "Anyway, shall we begin? Please list your accomplishments for Fiscal Year 5439264718, ending tomorrow." "Hell(TM) is on a different calendar system," the Mage Municipal helpfully informed Jack. "Well," Jack started, "I successfully removed the rival demons from around the Mission of Santo Andreo." "Yes, rather clever solution, points for ingenuity, even if we really wanted the monks gone. Anything else?" the demon asked. "Er, no...." "Hm. Only one successful mission this fiscal year. I'm afraid this will look bad on your review." "But I was only hired the other day!" "I know that, and you know that, but the people down in Assignments don't know that. Interdepartmental communications can be inconveniently incomplete at times," the demon shrugged. "WHY?" Jack demanded. "Dear boy, this is HELL(TM) we're talking about. Think about it for a while, won't you?" "Fine, fine...by the way, as long as I'm suffering through this, I might as well get some benefit out of it. When's payday?" Jack asked. "Tomorrow..." the HR [or should that be IR...Inhuman Resources? - Ed.] demon started. "Yippee!" Jack replied. "...but because you've only been on the payroll for a few days, your partial check for last month will be lumped together with next month's check," the demon finished. "Waitaminnit...the people in Assignments think I've been working a whole year, but the, well, I suppose they're probably not *people* actually...the entities in Payroll know I've only been working a few days? Who designed this system?" The demon just grinned like one would smile to a child who had asked a very stupid question (there are stupid questions, by the way, but it's demoralizing to tell kids that). "Oh yeah. Hell(TM)," Jack sighed. WILL JACK GET A FAVORABLE ANNUAL REVIEW? WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO GWEN THE SQUIRREL? IS GWEN LOUIE'S TYPE, AND IF SO, WILL SHE STILL BE HIS TYPE ONCE THE DEMON GOO IS DONE WITH HER? WHAT THE HECK'S UP WITH THAT ERIC LANG GUY, IS HE BLIND OR NOT? OR IS HE JUST PRETENDING TO BE BLIND SO HE CAN KEEP THAT BIG HORKIN' DOG WITH HIM IN RESTAURANTS? WILL "NO DOUBT" FANS BLUDGEON THE AUTHOR TO DEATH WITH TELEPHONES? Some of this, and more, on the next...SUPERGUY! ============================================================================ Author's Notes: I hereby categorically deny any rumors that may be floating around that I have been replaced as writer of this series by a pair of trained tapdancing squirrels who tap out the words on the keyboard. Furthermore, I...hey, who turned off the music? Okay, maybe I *am* high.