Walking Dead Funny

If you know me, you know how much I love The Walking Dead.  I could spend time justifying why I love it so much or I could create funny pictures about it. Guess what I'm choosing to do...

 

 

 

For Nick: The Adventures of Lucky Haskins, Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1 here

 

Chapter 2

 

He picked up the box and the envelope and moved it into his bedroom. It was a downside to his job. He hated the thought that so many well-trained operatives had access to his house.  Of course, it was a necessary evil so the technology could be updated and he could receive his assignments.

He lived in a beautiful house that garnered the envy of all the neighbors in the Old West End—one that had the Parade of Homes calling every year begging him to show it off—but it was bit much for a single guy and his dog. There had always been curiosity about the property. There always seemed to be a remodel of some sort occurring. Unmarked, black SUVs often were seen pulling in late at night to make a delivery. The home had been in the hands of the agency since the 1920’s but as far as anyone knew, no one in the neighborhood had ever been invited inside.

Now Lucky, its current resident, had lived there for the past 6 years. He had thought he had hit the career lottery when he had first moved into the house. Only two weeks before he had been walking across the Stanford campus to his Statistics class when the man in the suit called his name from the black SUV.

“Lucky Haskins, I’d like to speak with you,” he’d said in an authoritative tone.

Lucky, afraid he had been caught by campus officials for a prank he’d played on the Dean of his college, reluctantly turned to face the man.

“How do you know who I am?” He asked, hoping to gain some idea of who this person might be.

“I know a lot about you, Lucky. I know you have 8 minutes until your Statistics class. I know the name of your third grade teacher. I know that you are allergic to scented fabric softener.” The man looked ahead, further down the street and sighed, clearly bored by these details. “And I know about the little prank you pulled. The one you uploaded to YouTube. The one you thought was Anonymous.”

“So, what? Am I in trouble? Am I expelled?” Lucky asked nervously, suddenly very anxious for his future.

“Well,” the man held up a manila envelope, shaking it like Lucky was a cat to be teased. “In this envelope is all the information regarding who pulled that prank. I can tell you that the President of the University held a meeting this morning in which he declared that the perpetrator of this prank will swiftly be expelled if he is ever discovered. Now I need you to get in the car with me. I have a proposition for you.”

After looking around to see if anyone was watching, Lucky hurried to the car. The driver immediatlely jumped out and opened the door for him.

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” Lucky forfeited, as he climbed onto the seat. The driver shut the door behind him. Lucky noticed a large assault weapon attached to the ceiling of the car. The man’s pant leg had bunched up just enough to notice the handgun attached to his calf. “So I take it you are not associated with the University?”

“No,” the man said with a smirk. “I’m more of Yale man myself.”

The man just stared at Lucky from behind his sunglasses. The uncomfortable silence made Lucky more than just a little nervous.  He thought about reaching for the door handle, but instead he gripped his messenger bag more firmly on his lap. His mind fervently envisioned every item he had in the bag, in hopes of finding a weapon. Coming up empty, his thoughts then settled on the cellphone in his back pocket.

“I’m going to be late for class. Maybe we can catch up later,” Lucky offered, anxious to get out of the car.

“Well, Mr. Haskins, you won’t be going to your class,” the man casually responded. As Lucky shifted nervously in his seat, the man’s loud laughter broke the tension, although for Lucky it only added to it. He took his sunglasses off, inspected them before folding them and placing them in his breast pocket.

“They said you were courageous, but I see a scared little boy next to me.  My name is Anson. Lawrence Anson. I work for a top secret government agency called PTI. It stands for Peace Time Initiative.  We use highly advanced analyses to determine how to better our country and provide more peaceful, more meaningful lives for all Americans. Once a conclusion is made about the course of action, a special agent is sent to ensure that the course of action is set into motion. We would like you, Mr. Haskins, to be one of those agents.”

“Wait, why me?” Lucky asked. He had a hundred questions, but this seemed as good as any with which to start.

“Because you have a unique set of skills required for this job, as evidenced by your life up to this point and that stunt you pulled,” Anson chuckled.  

Lucky smiled, glad that someone appreciated how he successfully convinced the Dean of Humanities and Sciences at Stanford University that the world was being attacked by aliens. Simply by making several phone calls to him, impersonating different countries’ leaders, he convinced him to draft an army of students and arrange them by ethnicity, height and attractiveness. Lucky had no idea that it was so successful until he received the email from the Dean asking all students to meet at Stanford Stadium to “serve their country.” At that point in time the anonymous recording of the phone calls, edited together in pure hilarity, made its way to YouTube.

“We need you in our agency. You will have to relocate. You will be put up in a nice house and given a nice car. Your base starting salary will be $238,900,” Anson noticed Lucky eyebrows perk up at the sound of the salary. “You also get bonuses for every job you do.”

“Sounds interesting. What if I say no?”

“Then this envelope makes its way to the President’s desk within the hour and you attend your last class as a Stanford University student.” Anson’s smile had faded.

“You said, ‘special agents are sent to ensure that a course of action is taken.’ What do you mean by ‘sent’?” Lucky asked, knowing that essentially everything would be acceptable given his circumstances.

Anson cocked his head to the side and gave Lucky a penetrating stare, letting him know that he was about to learn too much information to back out now.

“Time travel.”

 

The sound of the 5 minute warning alarm snapped Lucky back to reality. With Brutus by his side, he opened the box. Sitting on top of a pile of neatly folded clothes was a top hat and a billfold. He reached over to pet his loyal dog and facetiously said, “this is going to be fun.”

He hadn’t yet fastened all the buttons when the countdown started. He hastily grabbed the envelope with his instructions and jogged to the mock closet.

“Bye, buddy. See you soon,” he called out over the noise and patted Brutus on his side. He shut the door and latched it behind him.

Placing the hat on his head and fastening the last of the buttons, he pushed the hangers and clothes aside and pressed his back up against the titanium wall. The whirring of the spindle grew louder and louder. Lucky closed his eyes and waited for the nausea to start.

For Nick: The Adventures of Lucky Haskins, Chapter 1

  

 Join me on my first venture into the world of fictionalized writing! This tongue-in-cheek story is dedicated to good friends of mine. I hope it blesses and entertains you, Nick and Nikki, and everyone who reads it!

 

The Adventures of Lucky Haskins

For Lucky Haskins, no day is ordinary and nothing is ever set in stone. Follow the journey of one man who has the power to change history but not always the wisdom to know when he should.

 

Chapter 1

 

For all the patrons at the bar, it was just another night. Another call for Closing Time and a forced, slow retreat back to the real world. Of course, here in Toledo, Ohio the "real world" in April is marked by cold winds, freezing rain, and dark empty streets. But for Lucky Haskins, it isn't just another night. Not just another time to wipe up the bar, clean the glasses, and kick the usuals out. He had only 30 minutes before his next assignment began.

 

He grabbed his jacket and didn't even bother to put it on before pushing open the heavy door. He walked swiftly to his car, careful not to slip on the slush covered concrete. The last thing he needs is to go into this assignment with an injury. It was bad enough that time a pimple got mistaken for leprosy-- almost blew the whole thing.

 

Just then he heard Mike, the bar owner yell out to him.

 

"Hey, Lucky, you forgot your check!" Mike yelled as he jogged out to meet him. "If you are like me, you will need all the money you have at those casinos."

 

"Oh, yeah," Lucky said, remembering his cover story. He had figured a weekend bachelor party in Vegas was the perfect excuse to avoid answering any questions about his  absence. He chuckled at the obnoxious and very overused "What happens in Vegas" cliche. "Thanks."

 

"Yeah, there is a letter there, too, that came for you today. Don't go giving out the bar address to spammers. I'm in over my head with paperwork as it is."

 

Confused, Lucky nodded his head.

 

"Of course. Hey, I have got to go. Early Flight." He stammered, anxious to get on his way. He had already planned to have some extra time tonight. Leave it to Mike to make him pull a double shift on this important night.

 

"I gotcha," Mike backed away. "Hey, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

 

Lucky made sure to turn away before rolling his eyes at yet another ridiculous cliche. He headed straight for his much loved silver Saab. Of course it looked awful in this dim light of the parking lot, covered in a coat of road salt. He shook his head in disappointment. At least it wasn't bird poop. He still had another month till that became his nemesis. Even birds know its still too cold up here.

Opening the door, he threw his jacket in the backseat before sitting down on the cold leather. He opened the glovebox and shoved the envelopes inside. He wouldn't need his own money. Chances are it wouldn't be any good where he was going anyway.

 

He started to pull out of the parking lot with the windshield still covered with the freezing rain. He didn't have time to scrape it. Besides, he'd taken the scraper out of his car last week during the warm spell, sure the cold was over. Only in Toledo, he thought. Hopefully his wipers could clear it off before he hit I-75. He used his drive home to contemplate what his mission might be this time. He was thankful for his jobs. He loved the excitement of not knowing where he might be at any moment. And he loved the power he felt. He had changed the world for the better, time and time again. Not many people could say that. Sure they might tell themselves that, but it is impossible to know if the decisions they made actually made the world better or worse.

 

He also loved working at the bar. It gave him a chance to be normal, to hang around normal people. His regulars were like friends to him in a way, which was good because he was in short supply otherwise. Close enough to give him entertainment and a few laughs, but not enough to miss him should something go wrong. He would hate for anyone to really care for him, really need him, because he knew there would come a time when he didn't return from a mission.

 

It would be hard enough on Brutus. People always treated the Boxer, Greyhound, Pit Bull mix like he was a menace to society, but he is a big baby really. He never liked it when Lucky left. The dog sitter was a cat lover and did nothing more but feed him and let him out. As sad as it was to know Brutus was lonely, it was necessary because Mrs. DeMarco never asked any questions about his trips. He'd learned that lesson from Sarah, the high school student from next door. She had loved Brutus. She had taken him on walks several times a day, brought him to what she called a "puppy playdate" (whatever that is), and had even brought some dog treats she had made in Home Economics class. The problem only came when he had returned with a major bruise across his cheek and a bad limp. She had returned the next day with cookies and a homemade Get Well card, complete with glitter and stickers. On the inside, she had tucked two of her senior pictures. In the first she was in a cheer position in her uniform. In the second, she was standing in a field of wildflowers in a sundress so short, he doubted it would pass her school dress code.  On The back of the picture she had written, "Lucky and Brutus, all my love, Katie XOXO".  After a brief panic, he dumped the cookies down the garbage disposal and shredded the pictures and the card. Then he had arranged a "chance" meeting between Katie and Justin, a good looking agent from the local college. After one date she had moved her focus away from Lucky and he was in the clear.  That was almost three years ago now. Last he heard, they were engaged and Justin was quitting the force to provide stability and security for his future wife and family.

 

Hmmph, thought Lucky. Must be nice to have someone. As he pulled into his driveway, he imagined what it would be like to walk into his home on nights like this and climb into bed next to the woman he loves and just be at peace with the world. But that was a different life and a different time.

 

As he unlocked his door, he was greeted by the patter of paws on the wood floor.

 

"Hey, buddy. I'm sorry, but I don't have much time with you tonight. Work calls."

 

There, beneath the entryway table, sat a large box with a manila envelope placed on top that read, "The time has come, Special Agent Haskins."

Check back here next Wednesday for the next chapter!! Enjoy Virginia Beach, Nick. We will take care of Nikki!