Oliver Benjamin
“You are. Insanity comes in many flavors, some
indistinguishable from genius.”
“You think I’m a genius?”
“No, not you, dumdum. Me. See, the cops think they’ve chased
me away, but they don’t know what I’ve got planned. All I have to do
is get my army together and then kablooie—one annihilation under
God. Divisible. Just desserts for all.”
“So no big screen TV?” the bum said mournfully.
“No, no. But hookers,” Partment replied encouragingly, “There’ll
always be hookers.”
This consoled the man somewhat. Partment patted him gently on
the shoulder, then began fashioning military diagrams on the floor
with the rest of the barbecued beans.
What he didn’t know was that his beans were already mobilized.
Partment’s erstwhile beans weren’t going to throw the usurpers out
of Undergrounds just yet. Sprout was commandeering Partment’s
standing army to go right to the source. If they were going to fight the
king of the jungle, they would have to go to him. There had been too
much beating around the bush. It was time to attack from the tall
grass, the undergrowth encircling his lair.
This time Yak was with them too. But he didn’t like the way
things were unfolding. To his mind it threatened the gravest disaster,
spelled nothing but heroic doom. In his opinion, heroic doom was
one of the most overcelebrated concepts in Western culture.
When the anarchists arrived to take over Undergrounds they
thought Yak was just the hired help. They didn’t recognize him as the
one that pulled Sprout from their clutches. At first they extended him
an invitation to join their antisocial society.
“We’re a disorganization formed to combat order. Our only rule
is that there are no rules,” the dismembership chairman told him.
“Sounds familiar. No thanks,” Yak said. He knew their rhetoric.
Power corrupts, The low will later be high, Look inside you and you
will find the truth.The problem with statements like that was that
the reverse was also true: weakness also corrupts, most of the low
just stay low, and inner truth is exceptionally hard to find.
“Sprout,” Yak said, trying to grab her arm, “You’ve got to stop
this. This is going to end badly.”
“You’re such a pessimist,” she said smiling, “Every journey
begins with a small step.”
259
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