The Power of Cool: Chapter 1

Chapter One:
The Annoying Acrid Adolescent Acquires Access
to an Absolutely Awesome Alliance who
Annihilate Alien Antagonists


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Tommy Aldridge was sitting in his boring 7th grade science class looking at all the bored kids who were listening to the teacher talk about neutrons or DNA or some other boring shit like that. He was also bored. Really, really bored. He couldn't even draw some doodles because he had used up all his notebook paper the day before when he got a little carried away making paper-mache. He couldn't sleep, because he had stupidly been late to the first day of class and he was stuck with that crappy seat that's right in the middle of the front row. The one where the teacher is constantly looking right at you. You know the one.

So Tommy passed the time imagining what would happen if a nuclear bomb was dropped near his city. The school could protect them reasonably well from the fallout, and there would be plenty of food in the cafeteria. But these teachers would be totally ineffective against the hordes of mutants. He would have no choice but to initiate a coup-de-tat against them. Yes... he could barricade the doors and throw chairs at the mutants from the second floor. It was just crazy enough to work.

Tommy was busy trying to figure out how to defend the school from the gangs of marauding bikers that always show up in post-apocalyptic situations, when suddenly the door swung open with a crash. In front of him stood the baddest motherfucker he'd ever seen. He wore Rayban sunglasses and his jet-black hair was styled in a high, slicked back ducktail. He had on a black pinstriped suit with a long black duster over it. He had two massive fifty-caliber handguns clearly visible on his waist, and an unfiltered camel in his mouth.

He glanced across the room, then spat the cigarette out of his mouth. He pointed at Tommy and said, in a a low, raspy voice:

"You're coming with me, bitch."

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"So... Seen any good movies lately?"

Tommy had always found that the best way to deal with a tense situation was by making small talk. And this would certainly count as a tense situation. First, he had been blindfolded and handcuffed, then he was dragged behind the school and forced into the back of a car. Now he could deal with all of these things, but it was the awkward silence that really got to him.

"Well... Guess you're not much of a talker then. Although, I guess you could just be listening to an iPod, and not be able to hear what I'm saying. Hmm... I wonder what kind of music you listen to. Most people would probably say metal, but I think that's a little too obvious. I think it's probably bluegrass, or maybe-"

"We're here." The mysterious, but intriguingly cool stranger said as the car came to a stop. The car door opened and some slow, heavy footsteps approached.

"Good day, boy!" said a loud, jovial voice, "and welcome to- um... Tungsten, why is the new recruit blindfolded and handcuffed?"

Tommy could hear the driver's side door opening and his ultra-cool captor standing up.

"Sir, we received intelligence that this subject was particularly ferocious and dangerous."

"Really? I don't remember that."

"Yes sir. It also said that he was not yet house-broken."

"Are you sure you aren't thinking of one of our new guard dogs?"

There was a brief pause.

"In retrospect, I guess that's probably more likely, sir."

"Well, don't worry. Everyone makes mistakes... Oh! We should probably open his handcuffs."

The one who had kidnapped him came over and stood Tommy up. He opened his handcuffs and untied his blindfold. At first the light was blinding, but as his eyes adjusted, he began to realize where he was. It was the old lighthouse. He had come here once for a school trip and had remembered vividly how pointless the whole experience had been.

"Allow me to apologize for your rough treatment, Mr. Aldridge." Tommy looked to his right and saw where the voice was coming from. In front of him stood a short, round, balding man who held an ornate cane in one hand. He had long muttonchops and wore tiny pince-nez eyeglasses. His waistcoat and pocket watch completed his unusual old-timey look.

"My name is Commodore Barnabas Tilsby Sr. I believe you've already met Agent Tungsten." Comm. Barnabas motioned towards the gun-wielding kidnapper, who nodded.

"Anywho, I'd like to welcome to the Seriously Cool Earth Defense Association or SCEDA. And you are our newest recruit. Pay attention over the next few days. The fate of the earth may depend on it..."

"You see," bellowed The Commodore as he led Tommy towards the lighthouse, "SCEDA's job is to protect earth from all of the uncool extraterrestrials in our galaxy who want to do us harm."

"Okay, I'm gonna have to stop you right there. Because I have a few problems with this. Firstly, I don't believe for a second that we're at war with some aliens."

"Of course not. We don't want the public to be running around all willy-nilly, protecting their rectums from the invader's anal probes."

"Uh-huh... Secondly, you do realize that there's a bunch of elementary schoolers here right now, right? I'm just saying that this might not be the best place for a secret military organization, or whatever the hell it is you are."

"Indeed, but who would possibly suspect a simple lighthouse to be our base of operations?"

"Well, I think pretty much anyone who saw all those mysterious black sedans and g-men walking around. So what am I up to, now? Three? Right, thirdly: you can't just send an armed guy to kidnap me from school. I mean, I'm no lawyer, but that's obviously illegal, right?"

"Nope. We work for the government. We can do pretty much anything we want."

"Okay, but I have friends and family who are going to care if I go missing."

"Actually, we've done our research, and I don't think anyone is going to miss you that much. In fact, that's your parents over there."

Tommy looked behind him, at the road. His parent's car was sitting there, idling. His mom rolled down the window and waved at him:

"Bye honey! Have a good time at the secret military organization! Behave for Mr. Tilsby!"

His father leaned over, "See you in a few years!" And with that they drove away.

"Damn..." Tommy crossed his arms, "I didn't see that one coming."

The two finally reached the lighthouse, and The Commodore lead them behind the large, spiral staircase.

"But most importantly," said Tommy, "Out of all the boring, generic middle-schoolers, why did you pick me?"

"Sorry, no more questions. We are about to enter the actual secret underground base."

"Uh... okay, so why do I need to stop talking? Are we observing a moment of silence, or something?"

"No. It's just really cool, and I thought you'd want to pay attention."

"Whatever."

The Commodore picked up his cane and carefully aimed it at a piece of graffiti on the wall the said "for a good time call Larry the Lighthouse Keeper". He swiftly tapped the graffiti with the end of his cane, and waited.

"Um... is something supposed to - AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Suddenly the floor fell out from under them and the two of them fell into a deep, dark chasm.

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"Wowzers..."

The two had landed on a conveniently placed matress, and were now in what appeared to be a massive hanger. A walkway spanned the long gap between the mattresses they were laying on and a door on the other side. It must have been a hundred foot drop on either side of the suspended walkway. And on either side were robots. Giant white robots. They were all standing up and the walkway was positioned at chest-level to them. The robots were admittedly pretty plain for a pompous organization that claimed to be "Seriously Cool." They were the correct proportions for a human, but they were completely featureless. Their coloring was a plasticy white with touches of black at the joints.

"Okay," Tommy uttered, "I'm willing to consider the possibility that this may be a real organization."

"Good to hear. Now I'll introduce you to your roommate. He'll show you the ropes, and answer all these annoying questions you keep asking."

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"So... you're my roommate?"

"Hahaha! You got it, my fellow thrasher! YEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

In front of Tommy was, what appeared to be, a member of an 80s hair metal band. He was wearing tight, beat up red jeans and a ripped black t-shirt. His hair was long, blond, and teased up in all directions. He wore eyeliner and had streaks of pink running down his hair. To top things off, he had a Gibson Flying V guitar hanging off his shoulders by it's strap.

"Well, I'll leave you two alone." The Commodore said as he turned and strutted out of the dormitory.

"Wait uh..." Tommy futilly tried to stop him from leaving, "Oh geeze... Okay, well, I'm Tommy, nice to meet you."

"I fucking love that name!" the rocker played a few riffs on his guitar. "My name is Quatro!" he said, and played a couple more riffs for emphasis.

"Um, so... I guess you pilot one of those big robots things, right?"

"You bet I do! I piloted it all the way to Rigel 4 this morning!" He played a few more riffs.

"Well, I was wondering about something. What does is run on? I mean, something that big must use a whole bunch of energy."

Quatro became deathly serious. His smile faded and he leaned in close towards Tommy, which was unpleasant because his hairgel had a pretty strong smell.

"I thought you would have realized by now... Our robots are powered... BY PURE COOL!" And with that he began playing the guitar solo from Freebird.

"Okay, okay! Please stop that!"

Quatro stopped playing and gave Tommy a confused look.

"Thank you. Now what do you mean?"

"Well, imagine I'm out in space, right? Fighting some aliens, and I need a little energy boost. Well, all I need to do is light my guitar on fire and play a wicked solo with my teeth!"

"And... this is all taking place inside the cockpit?"

"Yessir!"

"In space?"

"You got it!"

"Well, I'm not a scientist or anything, but this all seems impossible. For starters, I don't think giant robots would be very easy to control in outer space."

"HA! Physics are no match for the power of cool! If we're cool enough, then those giant robots can do anything! They can pull a gigantic gatling gun out of nowhere! They can travel faster than the speed of light! They can even melt enemy ships just by looking at them the right way! The power of cool is unstoppable, unbeatable, unquenchable! The power of cool can make anything possible!"

Tommy sighed heavily. "This is gonna be a long day."

"Alright!" said Quatro, "Time to introduce you to our other pilots!"

Quatro was leading Tommy down the sleek white hallways. It was a pretty nice underground base, with some sliding doors with keycard slots, video cameras pointed down the hallways, and all the other stereotypical things you might expect from a well-maintained underground base.

"Your see, Timmy-"

"It's Tommy."

"Yeah, whatever. So, anyways Timmy: Around here coolness is an actual thing, like water, or strength, or a banana. And it can be measured too! For example, I have a Cool Level of about 94 KiloCools."

"Uh-huh... Is that high, or what?"

"Haha! No! Actually, it's on a scale of one to ten-thousand, so I'm technically the weakest person here. YEEEAAAAAAHHHH!"

Quatro played a few licks on his guitar to emphasis how awesomely uncool he was.

"Uh..." Tommy raised an eyebrow, "How are you playing that? There isn't even an amp in the hallway."

"You still don't get it! When you're cool, you can do anything, including playing an electric guitar with no electricity!"

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They had entered a dorm room with two beds and a sexy Chinese woman reclining on one of them. She was wearing one of those tight, red dresses with a floral pattern that all the Chinese women wear in the movies. Her hair was long, straight black, and covered one of her eyes. The end result was that she looked really, REALLY Chinese.

"This is Lin," Quatro Whispered in Tommy's ear, "She's Chinese."

Lin put down the copy of The Art of War she was reading, and stood up.

"Well, well, well..." she said as she began to circle Tommy, eyeing him up and down, "You must be the new pilot. I bet you think you're pretty hot stuff, huh?"

"No ma'am. I was just kidnapped."

"So intend to just walk in here and upstage all of us. You really think it'll be that easy?"

"I kind of get the feeling you're not listening to me."

"Well, I've got news for you: I run this place. My cool level is 328. I'm the third coolest pilot in this entire organization. You might as well just pack your bags and leave, because we're best earth has to offer, and there's no way a puny punk like you can stack up to us."

"Do I really have the option of leaving? Because I've been trying to leave for a while and no one will let me."

"Wow! I can just feel the chemistry between you two!" Quatro said, "And now let me introduce you to Sakura!"

Tommy glanced around the room, "What, is she disguised as a desk, or..."

Lin sighed and pointed to a chair in the corner, "She's right there, dumbass!"

In the chair, tucked neatly in the corner, was a cute little Japanese girl, about eight or nine years old with a blank expression on her face. She had short, white hair topped with a red bow, and was wearing a little white kimono. She was completely focused on reading Le Petit Prince.

"Alright, this whole thing has become completely absurd. I mean, who's in charge of hiring people here? Because, you know, there's a reason why we don't allow kids to fight in wars. Can you imagine the opening to Saving Private Ryan done with fourth grade girls? Well, I can. And actually, I think it would be pretty funny. But what I'm trying to say is that it would be kind of impractical."

Lin and Quatro were staring at him in utter confusion.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"You're crazy man! And that's why I dig your jam-jam hullabaloo!"

Tommy lowered his head in frustration, "Those words don't even form a coherent sentence, Quatro. Okay, listen: this is all just the most stereotypical thing I've ever seen. I mean, it's like I'm in some poorly written story. In fact, I've never met this girl, 'Sakura,' but I think I can safely sum her up in one sentence. Her emotion never changes, she rarely talks, but when she's in a fight she is extremely deadly. Am I right?"

"Uh..." Quatro mumbled, "Yes, that's actually exactly how I would describe her."

"See what I mean? I've seen that exact same character type in dozens of shows. And another thing," Tommy said, holding up a finger, "Are these the only girls in this organization?."

"Yep."

"Well, what is that supposed to convey? That the only cool women are attractive asians? No, no. None of this makes sense. This is a stupid organization, with a bizarre sense of what's cool. Fuck this. Let's go meet the other batshit insane people and get this god-awful day over with already."

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"You already met Tungsten, right?" Quatro asked.

"Yeah, he's the stoic, dual-pistol wielding hitman in a zoot suit, right? He was a pretty nice guy, all things considered."

Quatro had led him down the hallway to another dormitory room. In it were two men. Tungsten was the scary guy who had kidnapped him from school. And the other guy... Damn...

He was an extremely tall, extremely muscular, extremely black guy who was dressed as, what appeared to be, a vietnam-era US marine. His sleeves were torn off, and is clothes were wrinkled and dirty, despite the fact that there was no dirt in the underground base. He sported a thick, porno-style mustache, and some big, reflective aviator glasses. His most noticeable feature, however, was the massive customized 1917 Browning Machinegun he had slung over his shoulder. It's tripod, ammunition belt, and massive size clearly showed it was intended to be used by a crew of men, but this guy didn't seem to mind.

"Who is this jive cracka?"

"He's the new pilot! His name's Tommy, like that album!" said Quatro, finishing it off with a guitar riff.

"Well, listen up, ya' jive turkey: My name's Remington, and I'm the baddest, funkiest mutha in this division. If you're here, that means you got potentials. But you still gonna have to work if you wanna be real cool beans around here. Can you dig it?"

There was a brief pause before .

"Wow. Am I the only one who was offended by that? I mean, I'm not even black and still I thought that was way over the top."

Suddenly a loud alarm started sounding and some red lights started flashing on and off.

"What does that mean?" Tommy asked, "Do we have movie sign?"

"No dice, home slice," Remington said, staring off into the distance, "It means we got some aliens that need killin'."

"This is gonna be a long day..."




TO BE CONTINUED...

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