Inside an armored hangar of Gotham NAS sat a sleeping F/A-39 Crusader II. Old Glory was proudly displayed behind her as the hypersonic bird rested. Her pilot, Lieutenant Commander Ryan Wolf, had his hand on her fuselage as he admired the new nose art that read, “Brooklyn.” It was in honor of his bodacious wife, Brooke. Her middle name is Lynn, thus her nickname was Brooklyn.
“A penny for your thoughts lieutenant,” CAG said, snapping Wolf from his musing.
“It feels wonderful to be back,” the smiling pilot replied.
“We’re grateful to have you back,” the Vietnam era pilot stated.
“This time of the year I would be getting geared up to escort Santa Claus.”
“Miss it?”
“Yes and no. It was fun, Santa’s sleigh could bend the space-time continuum to make the flight only last a few hours. However, to the body it was a near day, sometimes I was dragging my leg behind me as I limped to my front door.”
“Yes and you probably had someone waiting on you to massage it, didn’t you lieutenant?” CAG smirked.
“Ruby a couple of years, Jessica one year…,”
“Whoa! Forget I asked lieutenant. Too much information, save it for the paparazzi,” Quinn said as he waved his hands. The phone rang, “Hold that thought.” He answered it, “Commander Quinn speaking.”
He patiently listened and the replied, “What’s that ensign? Pike, slow down, I can barely understand you.” He listened and flashed a funny look “What do you mean we’re missing a tank? What’s going on ensign?!?!” he asked. Seconds later he spoke again, “You’re on I-995.” What? Call the main gate.” CAG put the phone down and looked at Ryan, “Your pumpkin frenemy stole a M60A3 MBT (Main Battle Tank) its heading west on Interstate 995. Intercept and engage if need be.”
Bittersweet for Ryan, he was ecstatic to get back into the air, but PK was driving a tank. He was legendary for his shenanigans, but this one topped them all. Wolf dressed and scrambled up his birds ladder. He sat down in the cockpit and strapped himself in as the hangar doors opened. He put his helmet on and awakened his bird with the push of a button.
He strapped his oxygen mask on and taxied out to the tarmac. Butterflies filled his stomach as he reached the launching point. “Wolf 1, this is Eagle Control. You are cleared to launch.” His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and engaged the VTOL (Vertical Takeoff Landing). The butterflies vanished as the Crusader effortlessly lifted off the ground.
It was wonderful to be back in the air. It felt like Pike’s Peak had been lifted off his shoulders, he felt like a kid in a candy store; even if that stupid pumpkin had stolen the nearly mothballed tank.
PK’s large head was sticking out the top as he drove the USMC (United States Marine Corps) tank. He had somehow placed a helmet atop his rotund orange head. He didn’t bother to snap it on; the chin strap was flapping in the wind as the tank lumbered down the interstate. Accidents were transpiring but that didn’t concern the king of the pumpkins. He had to get this tank to the pumpkin patch and stop those nasty armored rutabagas from turning the entire continent into a rutabaga field!
The Crusader shrieked overhead, PK lifted up his head and smiled, “Welcome back my boy!”
“Foxtrot, PK. What the hell is going on?” Wolf demanded.
“Whoa! You kiss Brooke with that mouth? I’m going to call your mother and tell her you forgot all about those manners she taught you. Perhaps she’ll drive up and wash your mouth out with soap so the next time you kiss Brooke your mouth will be clean!”
Wolf snapped, “I’ve been authorized to stop…”
“Stand down lieutenant! We have a national security issue here,” Colonel Rogers’s voice popped in on the radio. “PK was given permission to take the tank, but the Pentagon failed to notify Gotham NAS. You are ordered to assist him.”
“Join me Ryan, together we can rule New Jersey as Pumpkin and Wolf!”
“PK, would you stop playing Star Warp! One little mishap and you’re going to take out innocent civilians!”
“I’m hardly playing my boy. Lord Magenta Khan is about to detonate the Genesis Apparatus! North America will be turned into a rutabaga patch,” the pumpkin said as he put goggles over his fiery triangular eyes.
“Now he’s playing Star Wreck,” Wolf groaned.
“Ryan, we have to stop them! We can’t have rutabagas ruling North America! When knaves think their nobility, well, it’s time to take action!”
Several seconds of radio silence took place before Ryan asked, “Who’s Lord Magenta Khan?”
“He’s the leader of the rutabagas! They’re in cahoots with the old bucket of rusty bolts, Mega-Troff!”
“WHAT?!?!”
“That’s right lieutenant. Mega-Troff’s been playing with us. He’s been testing us with the hit and run tactics,” America’s favorite son said.
“That’s why the industrial sized bags of Rid a Rutabaga didn’t work. They’re armored now!” PK added as he took the exit ramp. Cars scampered out of his way as he barreled through the intersection. “Excuse me, make room for the pumpkin. We got a national security issue to deal with!” he exclaimed as he looked at the dumbfounded onlookers.
PK lost his attention and steered the tank towards parked cars. The sound of crunching metal filled the air. “Oops…,” the embarrassed tank commander uttered and steered the tank back on course to the pumpkin patch. “Sorry, just contact the Pentagon; they’ll have the few hard working US tax payers pay for the damages. Ciao!”
Ryan watched the carnage from above, he face palmed, “PK…”
“Sorry my boy, but this tank wasn’t designed for a pumpkin to drive,” PK said as the Marine tank thundered past Cobalt’s Corner. The deadly blue haired ninja, Miss Cobalt joined dozens of half drunken patrons were outside cheering and clapping him on. She held up and waved a sign that read, “Do it for us PK!” He gave them a thumb’s up and continued on his quest of saving North America from becoming a rutabaga patch.
The incident was being broadcast live all over America courtesy of Flynn Beck’s Ablaze Network. “As you can see there’s a tank from Gotham NAS barreling down a side street,” he paused momentarily as he put his head back, “Is that PK?”
“Affirmative!” Pat, Flynn’s producer answered.
“What’s he doing with a Marine Corps tank and why are the Marines still using a M60 tank?”
“He’s going to fight the Martians in his pumpkin patch according to Alex Stone,” Skinny Stu said as he ran into the studio and sat down next to Flynn. “According to the sources from the Pentagon, it’s a reserve tank, used only in training exercises.”
“Martians? Really, Martians? NASA’s Martian Rovers proved that there’s no little green men wandering on the planet,” Beck replied and continued, “In an unprecedented move, the Defense Department is allowing us to follow the audio, albeit a seven second delay because Lieutenant Commander Wolf is cursing like a sailor right now.”
“And we don’t want to get fined by the FCC, or excommunicated by the LDS (Latter Day Saints) Church, or get protested for being a ‘fake’ Christian by the Westboro Baptist Cult.”
They watched as PK’s adoring fans staggered from Cobalt’s Corner to the edge of the pumpkin patch. Beck shook his head, “What a shame. I’ve been there, blitzed out of my mind trying to run away from the pain that I created. I was a mess, I feel terrible for these people. Yes, I do, there not going to remember a single thing from this epic incident!”
