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Unsung Heroes 3: The Legend of the Chupacabra

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posted on Jun, 19 2006 @ 01:44 AM
On the afternoon of July 15, Ed, Travis, and I were playing a round of pool at Ed's house when we suddenly found ourselves involved in another important and dangerous mission. Our contacts within the most secret branches of the government informed us that there had been a sighting of a Chupacabra in the region of Auburn, California. The mythical creature called El Chupacabra, or "The Goatsucker" in English, would have to be captured immediately so the world's scientists could study it. Easier said than done, of course, since there had never been an actual Chupacabra in captivity before. That was our job. First, we would have to find the Chupacabra, and to do this we needed the help of another secret agent; Brian Baxter.

Arriving at Brian's house around noon, I gathered my associates to initiate a plan of action. We decided that Ed, Travis, and I should track down leads by automobile, while Brian would perform surveillance overhead in the ultra-light. Of course, we would need to make a few martinis first, so the four of us went immediately to the hanger to retrieve the vodka.

After mixing and drinking about three martinis apiece, Brian finally managed to get the motor on the ultra-light started. Watching from inside the hangar, we began to cheer him on as the aircraft began picking up speed for takeoff.

"Go Brian, go!" I shouted, as the ultra-light sped down the hill.

"All right Brian, all right!" Ed exclaimed from beside me.

"Soar Brian, soar!" Travis called out, then passed out.

"Fly Brian, fly!" Brian yelled from behind me.

I turned around and stared at Brian, then turned to look at the ultra-light, then turned back. "Brian, aren't you supposed to be in..." I didn't have to finish. Brian dropped his empty martini glass and stared wide-eyed at the ultra-light speeding over the grass.

"Dammit, the throttle must have slipped forward and gotten stuck!" Brian shouted as he took off in desperate pursuit, running at a full sprint. He probably would have reached it, had it not been for the small gray cat which got in his way. Tripping over the cat, Brian rolled painfully onto the grass, and we watched in astonishment as the ultra-light took to the air on its own.

The four of us gazed helplessly as it began to make slow circles in the sky above. Even worse, Brian had left the bottle of vodka in the front seat. There was nothing we could do - without the vodka, the entire mission was in desperate peril. It seemed as if the Chupacabra would escape capture once again. Looking pitiful and full of remorse, Brian began walking back toward the three of us.

Then a bizarre thing happened. As he was making his way in our direction, I saw Brian divide in two. Now, incredibly, there were two identical Brians standing in front of me. How had this happened? Was Brian the subject of some horrible cloning experiment? Or was this the underhanded work of the elusive Chupacabra? I looked down at the empty martini glass in my hand, the looked upward at the two Brians.

"That was a serious blunder!" I said, chastising them. "At least one of you should have been manning that aircraft."

"I know, I know." They responded together. "I'm sorry." And I knew they were. I decided not to press the matter any further. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind came along, and we watched in dismay as the ultra-light gained altitude, then flew away to the southwest. About an hour later, Ed, Travis, and I were sitting on the porch, drinkless and depressed, when Brian came outside with some surprising news.

"I just got a call from the neighbor, Gary. He was up there flying today and said he tracked a blue ultra-light that was being piloted by a bottle of Smirnoff 100. He said it looked like mine."

"Where is it now?" I asked.

"He said it crashed into Folsom Lake about twenty minutes ago."

"Alright men!" I exclaimed, "We've got to launch a deep-water salvage operation immediately, and recover that vodka at all costs. Without it, we've got no chance to capture the Chupacabra. Ed, Travis, let's go in the Mustang." I threw my keys to Brian and shouted "You take the Mitsubishi and work on the Chupacabra case. Let's move! The freedom of the world depends on us!"

Thirty minutes, two accidents, and fifty-six moving violations later we arrived at the dock on the shore of Folsom Lake. Our first priority was to secure a boat, but we had no idea where to find one. Suddenly, to our surprise, a large white yacht pulled alongside the dock. Lying on the deck, staring at the three of us, was a gorgeous brunette wearing a red bikini. We jumped onboard immediately.

"What's going on, guys?" she said with a flirtatious smile.

"My name is Marsh…Kyle Marsh. These are my associates, Ed and Travis. We're on a secret mission to capture a Chupacabra." I responded. "Have you seen any Goatsuckers around here?"

"No, I'm afraid not." she giggled. "But you guys are welcome to join me for a little cruise, if you like. My name’s Traci."

As it turned out, Traci was quite helpful in our attempt to recover the vodka. Her yacht was equipped with the appropriate scuba diving gear, and she even agreed to go down with us to assist in the salvage operation. So I filled a backpack with ice, vermouth, olives, and three martini glasses: this I would carry with me during our dive. After donning our equipment, checking our regulators, and attaching flippers to our feet, we dove into the foreboding waters.

Locating the ultra-light took longer than expected, but as luck would have it, the bottle was still intact. Unfortunately, we were running out of time. We needed to mix some martinis as quickly as possible, and there wouldn't be enough time to surface. As I held the martini glasses in front of me, Ed opened the bottle and poured the vodka. Traci prepared the olives and vermouth, while Travis brought forth the ice cubes.

That was when disaster struck. It's a simple fact of floats. As we watched in horror, the ice cubes began drifting toward the surface. Travis did his best to respond to the situation at hand. Without a second thought, he pulled off Traci's bikini bra, and attempted to catch the ice cubes in the ample bra cups. It was to no avail - the ice cubes simply floated up and away from his grasp. In the same instant, I ripped away her bikini briefs in a vain attempt to catch a few myself. The tiny briefs were also an insufficient tool for the task.

At times like this, heroes like us must sometimes make the most severe sacrifices for the sake of our country. So it would have to be. Using sign language, I informed my companions that we'd have to drink the martinis without any ice at all. Ed and Travis nodded in agreement, and we poured another round. Meanwhile, Traci (looking quite embarrassed) blushed and tried to cover herself while swimming toward the surface. My associates and I, on the other hand, remained at the bottom of the lake, drinking our martinis and enjoying the view above us.

Eventually, we made it out of the water and onto the shore. That was when Brian pulled up in the Mitsubishi.

"Wow!" he remarked. "You guys look toasted." I looked at him and said "Yeah, but the salvage operation was successful."

I held the bottle of vodka in the air for him to see. Fortunately, there was still some alcohol left inside, mixed in with lake-water, algae, and a single tiny drunken minnow swimming groggily in circles.

"We didn't see the Mexican Goatsucker though." Ed added.

"Nope" Travis said. "The only creature we saw was a rare North American diving beaver."

Brian looked unusually excited. "That's OK guys. I just got a hot tip from a friend of mine at the Sunset Bar in Auburn. He says the Chupacabra is there. If we hurry, we might be able to capture it."

"Alright" I said without hesitation. "Let's get over there and finish this thing once and for all."

Within an hour we arrived in front of The Sunset Bar. The sun had gone down, and Brian went inside undercover to asses the situation. He returned a few minutes later, and told us excitedly that the Chupacabra was definitely inside. Apparently, the bartender was hiding it.

The four of us walked calmly into the bar, and we immediately saw that it was not one of Auburn's finer drinking establishments. Through the smoky, stale air I made my way over to the bartender, a large Mexican with a dark beard.

"Alright, we know you're hiding the Chupacabra. We're agents from the federal government, and we're ordering you to hand it over immediately."

The bartender frowned and leaned over, staring me directly in the eye. "El Chupacabra is very dangerous. Are you sure you are prepared to encounter it?"

"I don't have time for your pale excuses, compadre!" I said authoritatively. "Hand it over, or you're in deep trouble."

"Very well." he said. "Prepare to meet the Chupacrabra." From underneath the bar he brought a glass. Into this he poured one teaspoon of tomato juice, one shot of Jack Daniel's whiskey, two shots of tequila, a teaspoon of Mexican hot sauce, and a single habanera pepper. He then added some ice and shook the glass before setting it in front of me.
I lifted the glass to my lips, drank the whole thing, and exclaimed "Excellent! Bartender, four more Chupacabras!"

We all drank the Chupacabras, and soon we were in agreement that we had discovered something truly unusual. Then, without warning, it hit. I felt the burning sensation creep into my mouth like some kind of slow, poisonous reptile, and I turned to look at my companions. They appeared to be wearing horns on their heads, and Ed seemed to have grown some kind of tail. I knew at once that the Chupacabra was casting its evil spell on us, and there was nothing we could do.

The next hour or so is quite vague in my memory. I recall bizarre images, strange noises, and myself searching desperately for the exit to that hellish hall of spirits. Other images were even more disturbing: Ed vomiting loudly into the toilet, Brian screaming wildly at the top of his lungs, and terrified people running from Travis, who was shouting "Yippikaiyai!!!" while snapping defenseless customers with Traci's elastic bikini bra.

Obviously, El Chupacabra had hit us hard, and without mercy. My last clear memory is of what the bartender said. His voice seemed slow and deep; his words stretched out like an endless horizon. "This always happens when gringos meet the C-h-u-p-a-c-a-b-r-a..." Then blackness.

I found myself awakened by the horrendous glare of an unforgiving sun directly overhead. Looking around, I saw my associates lying next to me on the dirt, unconscious. We were in the back alley behind The Sunset Bar, the window shades were closed, and I suspected that no one was inside. Glancing at my watch, I realized that it was just after one o'clock in the afternoon. Had it really happened? Had we encountered the legendary Chupacabra, only to barely escape with our lives? Or was it all just a dream, a hallucination caused by not enough martinis? We may never know. But one thing is for sure. No matter how strange the case, no matter how great the danger, no matter how formidable the odds, the unsung heroes will always be ready for action.

God bless America.


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