Friday, April 1, 1994

(Last week: Scotto and Crank Girl found themselves trapped in a hotel in Rio de Janeiro, surrounded by gunmen sent by the evil Columbian drug lord Raphael. The cocaine in Crank Girl's suitcase is enough to bring down the economies of several small South American nations. Scotto has a cold, and neither of them has eaten since lunch.)

"We'll never get out of here alive!" Crank Girl cried, and at that moment, I was inclined to believe her. I grabbed my gun, finished tying my tie, and calmly took a sip of my drink. "You've got to do something!"

I nodded and replied, "I am doing something. I'm getting drunk."

She raised her weapon and leveled it at my face.

"You're going to get us out of here, or I'm going to make modern art of your forehead. Do you understand?"

"I understand completely, sweetheart," I replied coolly. "You've stolen a suitcase full of Raphael's finest Columbian powder, and you expect me, Special Agent 23, to save you from certain death at the hands of his goons. Well, I've got news for you, Crank Girl: you can't get something for nothing in this world, and if you want a heroic rescue right about now, it'll cost you."

She eyed me intently. "All right, name your price."

I smiled ever so slightly, sipping on my drink with an uncharacteristic verve.

"I want to watch you do the hokey-pokey."

Her face went white with horror.

"The... the hokey-pokey?" she stammered. "But... but..."

"You'd better make up your mind fast, beautiful," I said. "Those gunmen will be here any minute, and the hokey-pokey's got quite a few verses."

The gun dropped from her hands. I could see the terror in her eyes, but I wasn't about to give up.

"You... you're despicable," she whispered.

"Just be thankful I don't have my Tinkertoys with me."

The next few minutes were tense and fraught with peril. As Crank Girl put her left leg in and shook it all about, the first gunmen arrived. As I sipped my drink, I fired off three rapid shots, and three hapless Columbian hitmen hit the floor with hunks of lead for Adam's apples. The blood quickly gushed onto the carpet, a sickening river of sticky red soup, which made Crank Girl's shaking her right leg all about treacherous.

She stepped onto the bed, put her right arm in, put her right arm out, and another gunman smashed through the window. I barely had time to set my drink down before he sent me sprawling, but as we wrestled for control of my gun, I still managed to catch a glimpse of Crank Girl shaking that adorable arm of hers all about. As I snapped the man's neck, she moved to putting her left hip in, and I nearly lost myself in the sight.

Machine gun fire suddenly exploded, and Crank Girl had to finish shaking her hips from under the bed. I rolled, leapt, flipped, landed near the table, dodged a hail of bullets, took a quick sip of my drink and hastily assembled my assault rifle. A grenade exploded, and the shrapnel made it nearly impossible for me to see Crank Girl put her left intestine in.

A helicopter was outside our window and a nasty hitman was reloading his machine gun. I ran to the window, leapt into the helicopter, yanked the man out and sent him plummeting to a dismal finish 20 stories below. I could see the pilot was nothing but a terrified lackey; I had to win his confidence fast.

"Please, sir," he shouted, "don't kill me!"

"I'm on your side," I told him. "Just take a look at that!"

I pointed to the window, where both of us could see Crank Girl putting her whole self in, putting her whole self out. The pilot nodded appreciatively, his animal instincts soothed. As soon as the hokey-pokey was finished, I waved to Crank Girl; she grabbed her suitcase and joined us in the helicopter.

"You'll pay for that," she said.

"I had to know if I could trust you," I replied. "Only a red-blooded American would know the hokey-pokey the way you did. I don't do business with commies, after all." I looked at the pilot and said, "Take us to Raphael. I believe he'll be wanting to see us."

(Next week: The awful truth about Raphael and Crank Girl, and a look into Secret Agent 23's past.)