07
Apr

TD: Chapter 1 • Origins and Origies (Part 3)

Part Three

“Never saw anything like it,” the first responder said, his eyes still wide. “Nude orgy fighting.”

“It was like, like coming across a big flailing pretzel,” the second responder said, choking back tears, “…with penis.”

The two dispatched firemen sat on the rear bumper of their fire truck. Between sobs they sipped piping hot cocoa — blankets draped over their shoulders to combat orgy-observing-induced hypothermia.

In the meadow before them sat a smoldering seven-foot wide heap. Todd Doyle’s teepee was no more. Where just an hour prior stood a proud tribute to Mother Gaia, now lay a puddle of hemp and soy.

“The Great Teepee Fire Orgy Fight,” the first responder said. “It was only a half hour ago and I’ll never forget it.”

“Us trying to put it out with our hoses, but only succeeding in getting the orgy fighters all wet,” the second said. “Makin’ them more sexier!”

“It was the first and sexiest orgy fight I’ve ever seen,” the first said, staring off into the distance. “The teepee flames dancing to the cadence of the colliding torsos. And now I’m traumatized because I don’t think I’ll see anything as whimsical ever again.”

“It was like watching poetry.” the second said. “But with penis.”

“With penis.”

The two Russian assassins were gone, fled into the nearby woods. Todd Doyle had bested them, physically and then orally.

He’d won the orgy fight, but lost his home. While struggling to gain an upper hand in the early moments of this battle, Todd Doyle had knocked over a burning incense stick. From there, a small teepee flame grew into a raging teepee inferno.

“We’ll never witness anything that beautiful again, Mr. Doyle,” the first responder cried, turning to face Todd Doyle.

Todd Doyle sat between the two firemen, as he had for the past twenty minutes, still naked, offering organic comforts and post-orgy-fighting consultation.

Shhhh now,” Todd Doyle said, reassuringly rubbing the firemen’s shoulders before kissing them softly on the head. “S’allright.”

“We appreciate the organic hot cocoa and blankets, Mr. Doyle,” the second responder said.

After the assassins stole away into the early morning, Todd Doyle had more than enough time to collect cocoa beans and crotchet blankets for the traumatized firemen. It was a brave face for Todd Doyle to put on, and gave him something dwell on, instead of all he’d lost: His teepee, futon and sack of coffee, as well as his only shirt and pair of pants.

“Gentlemen, I hope you won’t report what you saw here today,” Todd Doyle said. “Those two women wanted me dead. I don’t think the townspeople need to know about it.”

“We won’t tell,” the first said. “We’ll only use these memories to combat impotence.”

“We’ll never forget you,” said the second. “We’ll carry this story to our graves and to our bedrooms on lonely nights.”

Having finished their cocoa, the two men embraced Todd Doyle, several seconds longer than necessary. The firemen promised to check in periodically, in hopes of stumbling across another orgy fight. Their vehicle slowly rolled off into the distance, the two men braking several times to look back.

Todd Doyle waved good-bye, still naked from before.

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with New York state’s public indecency laws, but you’ve broken about 20 of them.”

A voice from behind Todd Doyle — a chilling, familiar voice. Todd turned to face a burly beast of a man replete with ornate epaulettes decorating his military uniform.

“Yessir, I’d say there’s enough here to lock up Toddsworth Doyle for a long time,” the man mocked Doyle’s birth name and lit a cigar. “One of those real dank cells with animal-tested steel, halogen lights and bottled water—from the tap.”

General Leslie Ganje extended his hand. Todd Doyle frowned. And shook it.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again General,” Todd Doyle said. “Now get off my land before I kill you.”

“Been watching you boy. You’ve lost a step,” the General said. “About a half hour into your little orgy fight, I could sense that the predilection for violence was leaving you, and your penchant for orgy-style intercourse was taking over.”

The General produced a second cigar from his pistol holster and lit it. Two cigars now resting between his teeth. “Loving will get you killed, son. But fighting will save your everlasting soul. I hope you learned that lesson today.”

Todd Doyle bristled. “Those Russian sex fighters… they were yours?”

“Oh relax,” the General chuckled heartily. “Had to see if you still had it — your combat skills, that is, not your patented double climax.”

Todd Doyle had heard enough. “What do you want, General Ganje? Not enough children to exploit or kill? Or exploit through killing?”

The General’s smile left his face, replaced by a stern, resting-dick face.

“Fine, I’ll cut right to it. He’s back, Doyle. Your father’s back.”

Todd’s entire body tensed. Making his six-pack even more pronounced. Which was crazy.

“You can either come with me to apprehend and destroy him, or you’re going away for a long, long time.” The General frowned. “I’m going to wait for your erection to diminish before I continue.”

“Sorry,” Todd Doyle said. “Force of habit, when revenge is within my reach.”

The General smiled. “Then its settled. We leave at daybreak.”

“Day already broke, General.”

The General squinted toward the heavens. “Goddamnit. Then we’re already behind schedule. And you know how much I hate to be behind my schedules.”

“Almost as much as you enjoy exploiting children of impoverished countries in your war against the basic human freedoms all mankind inherently possesses?”

“Haha! You’re all right Toddsworth Kingsley Doyle. You’re all right.

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