Edger Lives Excerpts

THE RUSSIAN HOOKER Edger Lives Excerpt 2 Edger Lives Excerpt 3 Edger Lives Excerpt 4
Edger Crown

Edger Lives Excerpt 2

The parachuting mind-control monkeys are driving everyone on the Notre Dame campus vodka bananas. They might’ve been driving everyone regular bananas, but these are Russian mind-control monkeys. Over there, it’s all vodka all the time.

The first sortie invaded the library a half hour ago. But don’t let anyone be tricked into believing these monkeys have pressing business there. The truth is they are supposed to have landed at the Golden Dome Building. But these are union mind-control monkeys, and for every supervillain who’s had an army of mind-control monkeys march to his bidding, there’ve been dozens more who’ve sat around with nothing to do while the so-called organized labor force clocked up overtime flinging dung.

With a little more than two hundred monkeys tearing around the campus library, the police on set outside the Golden Dome Building have dwindled. Now, a grown man in a feather suit, beak, and gigantic red wattle arrives on set. Murmurs ripple through the hundreds of assembled spectators. Next to the space chicken is a Zorgnarian pirate dressed in tall boots, tight leather pants, black vest, and white shirt. This man waves a space machete overhead.

David Hasselhoff and Gary Busey.

The crowd cheers. The costumed actors take a bow.

“Anybody seen Johnny Gemini?” Busey asks, his eyes bugging out.

Spectators look left. Spectators look right. Dak Q. Neutron is nowhere to be found.

A banana peel slaps Gary Busey’s space machete. David Hasselhoff wrinkles his nose and picks it off with thumb and forefinger. The thespians turn their gazes skyward. A dozen mind-control monkeys in purple-and-yellow onesies parachute in behind them. The crowd laughs.

Hasselhoff leans nearer Busey. “That in the script?”

“Dunno,” Busey replies, waving his space machete around to sell it just in case. “I don’t read scripts. I just make up my lines on the day.”

Hasselhoff shakes his head. “Well, don’t look at me. I’m a space chicken. You think I’d have signed on if I knew I had to be a space chicken?”

Busey sneers. He sheathes his sword and leans in for Chicken Hoff. “These movies are gettin’ too weird for me.”

David Beem
David Beem