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Fourteen Times Since Kindergarten Truly, the Arctic Circle was his fajita meat. Silently Ben watched as the polar bears wandered closer to the North Pole itself, and he was one of a very few who knew the truth. Real polar bears never came this far north; these were decadent mistakes of nature, Nazi spies in fantastically well-made polar bear suits! Officer S had told him some of them had actually been somehow implanted with genuine polar bear thought patterns; this being so, the only factor that truly separated them from true polar bears on the grand scale was their evil streak. In a few minutes, Ben knew he would be risking it all to save Earth from certain doom at the hands of Hitler and the Nazis, who had escaped to the centre of the earth through a hole in the North Pole in the late 1940s. What was he even doing here? Well, it was either this or a stiff prison sentence interspersed with menial tasks such as fixing Officer S his morning cocoa and buttoning his cuffs. The fateful encounter that had led to this situation rushed back to him in a swell... ~ "Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?" Ben demanded, aghast. "I do bite my thumb, sir," the mime responded staunchly (in sign language). "But do you bite your thumb at ME, sir?" Ben persisted. "Is the law on our side if I say aye?" the mime inquired of his comrade, a rather unspectacular turtle, signing with his hands lowered, apparently to signify that he was speaking under his breath. "Nay," murmured the turtle quickly. "Then NO! I do not bite my thumb at you, sir!" the mime told Ben grandly, returning his hands to a normal elevation. For twelve seconds, silence reigned. Then, like dawn breaking on the horizon, a marginally nightmare-inducing clown clad in enormous puffy green pants wandered out of the movie theatre munching on delicious popcorn. The mime glanced at him momentarily and immediately faced Ben once more. "Here comes my kinsman, Trowa!" he announced jubilantly. "I do bite my thumb at you, sir!" "Right then! Draw your weapon!" Ben ordered, righteously incensed. The mime drew an imaginary broadsword and swung at Ben, who parried with a rapier. (For the reader's information: Had both swords been real, this would have been a fairly uneven match.) He was about to counter when a loud voice interrupted. "HEY YOU CRAZY KIDS! BREAK IT UP! CAN'T YOU READ?!" the voice hollered. Ben was distracted. "An opening!" shouted the mime (silently), seizing the momentary opportunity and running Ben through. However, since his sword was imaginary, nothing happened. Ben looked at the mime with disgust and backhanded him. Distraught, the mime rose to his feet with the help of popcorn-munching Trowa and the turtle, then ran away crying. A green-haired man with enormous reflective glasses seemed to appear next to him. "All right, boy!" the man bellowed, seizing Ben roughly by the arm. "What does that sign say?!" Bemused, Ben turned and, sure enough, there was a sign written in large, clear Chinese characters. He read it out loud sheepishly. "NO SWORDFIGHTING WITH MIMES IS PERMITTED IN THIS PARKING LOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO HAVING HAD A THUMB BIT AT YOU AND IF YOU DON'T HEED THIS WARNING YOU SHALL ROT IN JAIL FOREVER AND OCCASIONALLY PERFORM MENIAL TASKS FOR THE ARRESTING OFFICER." "Okay, then!" snarled the green-haired man, apparently on officer. "Come with me!" "Noooooooo!" Ben yelled as the officer dragged him away. ~ "Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" queried the officer, entwining his fingers beneath his chin and tilting his head back just slightly so that the light caught his glasses and made them appear to glow. "Yes, well," Ben remarked uneasily. "That seems like a pretty good place to start." "That's what I thought, too," said the officer, and sat motionless for a full minute. "Yes, well," repeated Ben nervously. The officer said nothing. "Are you," Ben said slowly, "going to...?" "Going to what?" interjected the officer sharply. "Begin," Ben supplied hastily. "You said--er, implied--that you were going to start something, so I thought-" "My name is Caesar Salad," stated the officer. "I--um, I'm sorry, did you just say--" "Caesar Salad," he answered stiffly. "But you may call me Officer S." "Does the S stand for 'Salad'?" "No," Officer S replied, staring at Ben as if he'd sprouted an extra head and was adding another for good measure. "Oh," Ben rejoined wittily with just a touch of grandiosity. "I know you read that sign, boy," continued Officer S. "So you know what the future holds for you in the eyes of the law. But I'm going to make an exception for you, boy, because the fate of planet Earth depends on it." "That seems like a logical reason to make an exception." "Do you think so?" Officer S said sharply, glasses glinting harshly in the bright light. "Yes," Ben responded. "I do. Do you?" "I do not have an official stance on that matter as of this moment. However-whether or not I think excepting you from prison and menial servitude so that you can save the world from utter devastation is a good idea is not at issue here. The point is that I have made this decision and you must save the world from Hitler!" "But I did that already!" Ben complained. "No, you saved the world from the Red Dawn of communist London!" barked Officer S. "There's a huge difference!" "I've still saved the world-what, at least twelve times! I've been dispensing righteous vigilante justice since I was five." "You have saved the world thirteen times," Officer S stated solemnly. "But you'll have to make it fourteen if you don't want to spend the rest of your life brewing me green tea with mango, at least until Hitler takes over for good." "All right," Ben sighed in concession. "What do I have to do?" "I am not at liberty to disclose to you that I am very glad you asked," Officer S smiled, showing at least 10,397 perfect white teeth. ~ The only way to fool a polar bear is to become a polar bear. Ben donned the polar bear suit Officer S had appropriated for him from the site of a messy Nazi incident involving a phoney pet shop and mutant octopoda and dove into the icy water, swimming polar bear-style until he reached the manhole that covered the entrance to Hitler's joint. He managed to slip in undetected. The rest of the mission would be a snap. His high-powered weaponry would easily undermine the Nazis, and within a few minutes he'd be back in civilisation ingesting caffeine and-- "Hold it RIGHT THERE!" someone shouted. Ben looked up, startled. A girl with shortish black hair blocked his path, arms akimbo. "Die, Nazi sc--" he started to shriek, but a punch to the gut cut him short. "This is my turf," the girl hissed. "I've been waiting for this moment ever since I was four. I'm going to kill Hitler myself. Don't get in my way!" "Then you're from the Agency too?" Ben goggled, straightening. "Of course not! My name's AnJa and I'm not sanctioned by anyone, except for this neat little tea shop in Kansai. But do you know what my favourite holiday is? I'll tell you. The anniversary of Hitler's DEATH! But how do you think I felt when I found out he's alive and well in the centre of the planet I've been keeping my STUFF on for eighteen years? I feel angry, that's how! And I'm here to let justice reign with my Righteous Harmony Fists!!" "You go, girl!" Ben exulted. "Do you want some high-powered weaponry? I've got plenty." "No," she said, grinning horribly and cracking her knuckles. "I prefer my bare hands." Ben sat back and watched, munching on some delicious popcorn. AnJa distributed copious justice with her Righteous Harmony Fists and it was all over in a few minutes. "Congratulations," he said. "Thanks!" she said peppily. "Well, I'm off. Nice to meet you!" She waved merrily and then nipped away. Ben went home and, luckily, Officer S let him keep the polar bear suit! It was just like Christmas!
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