Dick by Law (17 page)

Simon thought it most likely that "Mobai" was an impersonator brought in
for the show...but if he
was
an impersonator, he was a damn
good
one.
He looked just like him, with the facial structure o
f a
n
African
and
the mottled pink skin color caused by vitiligo. His deep voice and speech patterns were Mobai's, too, right down to the bizarre malaprops.
He and
the actual
Mobai could have been twins.

"Make with the
dick prize
," said Mobai (or Mobai's
twin
). "Dish it up or I'll dish up your
guts
and feed them to your
slaves
." He swept an arm wide to en
compass the crowd.

"These people are
dicks
, not
slaves
!" said
Horne
, and the crowd roared.
"They won't
let
you steal their chance at the title!"

As the crowd roared again, Mobai threw back his head and howled with rage.
Suddenly, he
lurch
ed forward,
grabbed
Horne
, and
effortlessly
hoisted him overhea
d
.

"I am
Emperor Mobai
of
Tashtego
!" Mobai pumped
Horne
in the air like a barbell. "You must
obey
me or
suff
ix
the consequences!"

At that, the front ranks of the crowd charged
forward and scrambled up onto the stage
toward
Mobai. They swarmed him, punching and kicking and reaching for
Horne
.

Mobai easily fended them off at first, sweeping them away with one tree trunk arm...but more piled on,
overwhelming him. He let go of
Horne
, who was lifted away by the dicks and set down on his feet on the lawn.

Someone handed
Horne
a mic, and he shouted into it. "Enough! Let him go! That man's a
world leader
."

The mob backed away from Mobai but stayed close. He straightened his uniform and adjusted his
red
beret; otherwise, he looked untouched
.

"General!" said
Horne
. "I have a proposition! I
challenge
you!"

Mobai leered at him. "Challenge
me
?"

"I will
personally
face you in every event of the Dicklympics!" said
Horne
. "We will go
head to head
.
If you defeat me and
out-dick
all other challengers, you will win
more
than the title of World's Biggest Dick!"

"What
more
is th
ere
?" said Mobai.

"You, General Mobai, will take my place as
Dick Lord
," said
Horne
. "You will become the new leader of the international
P.U.D.
organization!"

Mobai squared his shoulders and stared at
Horne
through
slitted
eyes. As always, he seemed poised on the brink of the unexpected, capable of any kind of action at any time.

The crowd watched breathlessly.
The action had
all
been
staged, professional wrestling-style, but
the audience
seemed to be on pins and needles about the outcome
.

Suddenly, Mobai shot through the
dicks surrounding him and headed straight for
Horne
, reaching out with both massive paws. The master of ceremonies
and some of the dicks grabbed hold
of Mobai
but couldn't stop him.

"This is my answer!" Mobai hauled back one mighty arm and swung it
at Horne
like a battering ram
.

The crowd gasped.

But Mobai's goal wasn
'
t destruction. When he swung his arm forward, instead of landing a blow, he scooped up
Horne
's hand and shook it furiously.

"I accept your challenge!" said Mobai. "I
shall
out-dick you and win the
godhood
of
Lord Dick
as well as
World's Biggest Dick
!
"

"Then let the games begin!"
Horne
whooped, and the crowd whooped along with him. "Our first event,
The Running of the Dicks
, kicks off tomorrow morning at eight o'clock sharp!
Be there or be a
pussy
!"

Yet again, the crowd went wild.

*****

 

That Night

Hamilton, Bermuda

"Don't do it." Ishi shook her head as she
cut off a bite of braised lamb shank. "Please don't do it."

Hours after the Dicklympics kickoff reception, Simon sat across from her in an elegant restaurant
in downtown
Hamilton. He'd expected to have a planning session over dinner,
but instead, she was giving him grief
about having a plan in the first place.

Simon frowned and swallowed some wine. "But it's a good plan. You said so yourself."

"I said it
might
work." Ishi
shrugged
. "Now I'm saying I have a bad feeling about this."

Irritated, Si
mon looked away. The
dimly lit
restaurant was crowded with couples, smiling and holding hands by candlelight.
"Well, I have to do
something
."

Ishi gave him a funny look.
"
Do y
ou
love
him
? Do y
ou love
Horne Shaw
?
"

Simon scowled. "What makes you say that?"

"
Why else would
you still care what he does
?
" said Ishi. "
Why else would y
ou
let him keep
screw
ing
you
over?
"

"
I'm
here to screw
him
over!
" said Simon.

"B
ut
he's
out
enjoying
himself
right now
," said Ishi. "And all
you
can do is worry about
him
.
All
you
can do is
obsess over getting
back
at him."

Simon chopped his hand through the air. "He doesn't deserve
to
profit
from
my
lawsuit."

"He's a
dick
, Simon. It's what he
does
." Ishi put down her silverware and leaned forward. "What do you think he'll do if your plan backfires?"

"What if it
doesn't
backfire?" said Simon.

"If it all goes wrong, and you're left looking like an idiot, then what?" Ishi raised her eyebrows.
Even arguing, she looked beautiful by candlelight.
"You'll be worse off than before, won't you?
Much
worse."

"
Or
, I ruin the Dicklympics," said Simon, "and
Horne
ends up looking like an idiot.
Maybe
his TV show and everything go
away just like that." He snapped his fingers.

"And it'll all end there?" said Ishi. "Do you think
Horne
will just throw in the towel and
admit you're the better man?
"

Simon gl
a
red at
the
veal
on his plate
.
"I have to
try
.
I can't stand by and let him get away with it."

"It happens every
day
." Ishi reached across the table and took his
hand in hers. "People get away with things all the time."

"And we should just let them?" Simon was getting angry. "We should just give up?"

"You're a hero
at heart
, Simon." Ishi smiled. "You want to help people. You fight for what you believe in. It's one of the things I love about you. But sometimes,
the
dicks
win.
Sometimes, you can't stop them."

"And if you don't
try
," said Simon, "you'll never know if you
could
have stopped them."

 

*****

After dinner,
Simon
and Ishi
walked up Front Street
, the big main harborfront boulevard of Hamilton,
toward the
Royal
Hotel.
Looking toward the harbor,
Simon
saw the lights of boats bobbing in the
darkness
. The British flag towered over the docks, illuminated by spotlights from below.

Suddenly, a band of
ten or more
w
hoop
ing dicks staggered
out of a bar and swarmed around them.
Some of the dicks wore penis
hats, some were singing,
and
they cut Simon off from Ishi as they stumbled toward the next bar
.

As
Simon
looked around for Ishi, he
caught a
sudden
whiff of some kind of sickeningly strong cologne.
The next thing he knew,
he was colliding with the trunk of a
giant
redwood.

It was the closest thing, actually
:
the enormous iron chest of General
Omoo
Mobai of Tashtego.
Simon bounced
right
off, but Mobai caught his elbows before he could
move
away. "Happy Christmas
,
friend!"

"Sorry." Simon ducked his head in case Mobai might recognize him. "Excuse me."

"
No worries!
Splinters make the best luck!" said Mobai. "That's what we say back home."

Simon nodded. He couldn't free his arms from Mobai's viselike grip.

"It means bad things bring good juju." Mobai nodded earnestly. "Understand? You and me are pals now."

"Okay then." Simon strained against Mobai's grip. "Sounds great."

Just then, he heard Ishi's voice. "There you are!
"

Instantly, Mobai released Simon. "Yes I am! And you're the
brightest
angel I've ever met!"

Simon quickly backed away from Mobai. "We'd better get going, sweetheart." He took Ishi's hand and started up the street, giving Mobai a wide berth.

"Come to the pub!" Mobai's voice echoed along the arcade
of pubs, shops, and restaurants
. "The HogPenny! Drinks
are on me in honor of my new pa
ls!"

"Thanks anyway." Simon waved and kept moving. "We have to make an early night of it."

"Another time, then!"
said
Mobai. "In the meantime, I'll toast you both!"

"Bye!" said Ishi.

"Hello, pa
ls!" Simon looked over his shoulder and saw Mobai approaching someone else on the sidewalk--an elderly couple. "It's your lucky splinter! I'm buyin
g you drinks and you can't say bo
o!"

 

*****

Chapter 3
5

 

Next Morning

Hamilton, Bermuda

As the crack of the starting gun echoed over the harbor,
Adolph Hitler, Satan, De
ath, and other
well-known
dicks stampeded down Front Street
in the bright morning sunlight
toward Simon.

The Running of the Dicks
was starting
on schedule, promptly at eight a.m
.

There were over a thousand of them, all dressed as famous dicks from history, books, movies, and current events.
Whoever crossed the finish line
first
at the far end of the street would win the event, with special points awarded for the most creative
famous dick impersonation
.

Or, if Simon had his way,
no one would win this race because it was about to
turn into a nightmare.

As
he
watched from the sid
elines
among the mob of spectators
, halfway down the street
from the starting line of the one kilometer course
, his heart hammered.
T
he brown paper sack in his left hand
was soggy with
sweat where he clutche
d it.

Any moment now, he was going to cross the point of no return.
In defiance of Ishi
and his own common sense, Simon was about to put himself on the line.

He only hoped it would be enough to ruin the dicks' day
. He especially hoped it would be enough to seriously fuck with
Horne
Shaw
.

Simon spotted him at the front of the pack, dressed
as himself
, of course
. General Moba
i ran alongside him, dressed
in an orange, red, and black
dashiki
and a leopard-ski
n hat and cape. He was supposed to look like the president of Ziwi, a rival African nation that bordered his own; at least that was what he'd
told the crowd during the pre-race ceremony
.

"Now
there's
a
dick
for you!" Mobai had told the crowd. "But
I
will
outdick him any dick of the week!"

Simon's pulse quickened as Mobai and
Horne
drew closer. The sound of more than two thousand running feet
pound
ing the pavement filled his ears.

It was almost time.
Simon inched forward, pushing his toes over the edge of the sidewalk.
He unrolled the mouth of the paper sack and stuffed his hand inside. Felt the cool metal under his fingertips.

Adrenaline sizzled in his bloodstream as he imagined the chaos to come.
He couldn't wait to see
the look on
Horne's
face
when the Running of the Dicks collapsed around him
.

The spectators around Simon cheered
and clapped
as the racers drew
near
er. At the front of the costumed rank, Lizzie Borde
n waved a plastic axe, and Fidel Castro waved a
gigantic
cigar.
Billy the Kid shot cap guns, and
the Wicked Witch of the West brandished her broom.
Sunlight glinted from the helmets of knights and Vikings, the sunglasses of gangsters, the visors of mad scientists.

Along with
the
thundering
of so many feet, a wave of cackles, hoots, and howls
rushed out ahead of the approaching mob.
Sound effects
mingled with the symphony of dicks--the screeching of toy ray guns, the chattering of toy machine guns, the
expl
osions of toy torpedoes
.

When Simon stepped out into the street, it was like facing a horde of lunatics.
Half a block away, they showed no sign of slowing down when they saw him. If an
ything, the front line
pick
ed
up its pace.

People on the sidewalk shouted for Simon to get out of the street...and for an instant, he almost did.
Ishi's words from the night before came back to him, and he wondered if he ought to abandon his plan.

Then,
Horne
locked eyes with him, and that was it. The moment of doubt spun away like a feather in a whirlwind.

Sucking in a deep breath, Simon pulled out the contents of the sack
:
a battery-powered megaphone.
He switched it on, turned the volume all the way up, and raised the receiver to his lips.

"Surprise!" The megaphone cast
his voice
out over the
horde of approaching runners. "Time for the second stage of the Running of the Dicks!"

The racing dicks looked at each other with puzzled expressions. They shrugged, shook their heads, and kept running.

"
One hundred
of you have
thousand-dollar bills
taped under your number signs!" said Simon. "And it's
finders keepers
!"

Without stopping, the dicks looked around at the signs stuck to
themselves and their neighbors
--white rectangles with contestant numbers printed in black.
Many runners immediately started prying the signs from their own chests and backs.

"Whoever gets the most cash
wins
!" said Simon. "No matter what you do to
get
it!"

The runners became more excited and grabbed at each other's numbers. Everyone instantly got into the spirit of things...except
Horne
, whose eyes were still fixed on Simon.

"It's a
free-for-all
!" said Simon. "Get rich,
dicks
!"

By now, the crowd was nearly upon him. Simon got ready to run...but then he didn't have to. With a roar, the mob of runners stopped its forward progress and turned back in on itself.

Costumed racers attacked each other on the spot,
tearing off numbers in search of the nonexistent cash.
Some were rougher than others, and fistfights broke out. People punched, kicked, and
knocked each other down, clawing at each other like animals.

None of which
much
surprised Simon. He'd picked his strategy well, targeting
his audience with precision.
After all, they
were
a bunch of
dicks
.

Unfortunately, one of the worst among them
managed to untangle himself from the chaos.
Horne
,
who was taking a beating from Mobai's monstrous paws, twisted out of the giant's grasp and sprinted away...straight for Simon.

Simon dropped the megaphone and bolted in the opposite direction. Th
reading through th
e spectators on the street
and sidewalk,
he dashed toward a
side-street
less than
half a block away.

Simon ran full-tilt, d
esperate to get away. He couldn't stand up to
Horne
in a fair fight
,
not to mention the trouble he'd be in if
Horne
handed him over to the authorities.
..or, worse, if he threw him to the dicks.

At least
Simon had
scoped out the area earlier and had a
plan
to shake
Horne
.
If he could just hold on
to his lead
long enough to get
up
the side street
, he'd find an escape vehicle waiting
:
a motor scooter with Ishi
in the driver's seat. She hadn't approved of his scheme to disrupt the Running of the Dicks, but she'd still promised to help with his getaway.

With the roar of the dick riot at his back, Simon hurtled toward the corner. He didn't bother looking behind him; he knew
Horne
was back there, running just as hard or harder.

Arms and legs pumping like pistons, Simon dashed around the corner and charged left up the street. Instantly, his eyes locked on Ishi, who was straddling a scooter on
the other side of the street, facing
uphill
.

Simon aimed himself at Ishi. He couldn't wait to leap
on the bike, wrap his arms around her, and ride off to lie low at some out-of-the-way place on the other side of the island.

Ishi was close, less than twenty yards away. She saw him coming, and she revved the scooter's
motor
. Simon knew he would reach her in seconds, and they would be gone in a few seconds more.

That was why he was especially surprised when the back door of a white van parked along the street shot open in his path. Before Simon could dodge
out of the
way, two
burly
black men
in white v-neck t-shirts and khaki pants
leaped out of the back of the van and grabbed him.

As the men chucked him in the van, Simon saw one of them stumble backward.
The man struggled as two beefy arms swung him around, then threw him down in the street.

The arms belonged to
Horne Shaw
, who'd been even closer than Simon had thought
.
As soon as
Horne
dumped the first man, he leaped at the second,
tackling him against the door of the van.
The kidnapper got the wind knocked out of him and staggered as
Horne
landed a
powerful
punch in his belly.

With an angry grunt,
Horne
grabbed the man's green t-shirt and hauled him away from the van's back door.
Simon scrambled after them both, hoping to jump out and make a run for Ishi and the scooter.

Instead, he
ended up ducking
as
Horne
suddenly flew in through the open door.

It was a shocker.
One minute,
Horne
had been beating the crap out of two
muscular thugs
at once. The next, his body
was
thudd
ing
heavily onto the filthy metal floor of the kidnappers' van.

Simon didn't have long to wonder what had happened. An enormous, grinning face appeared in the doorway, fierce and familiar.
It belonged to
none other than
General
Omoo
Mobai. "Your shuttle has arrived!" He
was out of breath, but he still managed to
laugh as he said it.

Mobai squeezed into the back of the van, followed by the two
burly thugs
. The van started rolling before the last man had pulled the back door shut.

"Comfy back there?" said a voice from up front
,
the van's driver
. "Give a holler if you need a pillow or a bon bon, y'hear?"

Amazingly, t
he driver's voice was familiar
, too
. Simon recognized him before he even got a look at his face. "Poppa Free?"

"Wh
y if it ain't one a' my fans!" Poppa Free looked back, flashing a bright white smile like a wedge of hard-boiled ostrich egg. "Couldn't do it without ya,
sonny."
Laughing, he jerked the steering wheel hard to the left.

As the van swung around a turn,
Simon was crushed between
Horne
's unconscious body and the
wheel well. He listened closely for the sound of Ishi's scooter gi
ving chase, but all he heard were
the van's squealing tires.

"So
,
Poppa." Simon tried hard to sound casual. "What's up? Where're we going?"

Poppa Free chuckled.
"To be
with the tree frogs, Mr. Fan.
General Mobai's gonna teach you to sing like they do."

"No need to thank me." Mobai reached over and
tousled Simon's s
andy
hair.
"Just pay it forward, my
pal
."

"He can't, General," said Poppa Free. "Remember?"

"Ye
s, yes," said Mobai. "How could I
forget
?
"

"What are you talking about?" said Simon.

"Your shuttle ticket," said Poppa Free. "It's
one way
only."

"
Both
tickets." Mobai winked and nodded. "Now isn't that a bargain?"

"Sure." Again, Simon listened for the sound of Ishi's scooter...again, to no avail. He was
on his own.