Patrick McLean - How To Succeed in Evil

“No,” the Director says, sweating profusely, “I am Director Smiles, I will b-b-b-b-b-” As Smiles struggles with the future tense, Excelsior is sucked in by the suspense of his stutter. What is he trying to say? Will he make it past the second letter of the alphabet this time?

“b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b”

In the midst of his terror and motorboat impersonation, Director Smiles decides that this ‘b’ is unassailable. He gives up on the sentence and tries another one.

“I am in control of you now,” says Director Smiles. He is pleased that he has gotten this sentence out in such good voice, with a real tone of authority. But when Excelsior’s face collapses into a frown, Smiles realizes he may have made a mistake.

“You do NOT control me!” Excelsior picks the little man up by the front of his cheap suit. “I control you! You get it?” Excelsior twists his wrist and turns Director Smiles upside down. As small change falls out of the Director’s pockets, Excelsior whispers, “I can end you any time I want. And if you don’t leave me alone with my friend. I am going to end you.”

“Government!” Smiles squeaks by way of protest.

“Wait outside, we’ll talk about it when Gus wakes up.”

Excelsior stands a vigil over his friend. Smiles sits outside on the couch frantically messaging people from his phone. He is praying, to whatever committee of dark gods bureaucrats pray to in their secret, inefficient hearts, that Gus will pull through.

As the first fingers of dawn claw their way through the heavily louvered blinds, Excelsior raises his head. The lack of sleep hangs under his eyes. He looks to Gus. “It’s a new day old man. It’s a new day and I have to go. But you rest easy, I’ve got it from here.”

Director Smiles awakes with a jerk. He realizes that Excelsior is watching him. Smiles is afraid before he can even fully wake up. “I have to go to court,” says Excelsior. Smiles nods. “Is it your fault that I have to go to court?” Smiles nods again. Excelsior frowns. “Rule 1 — no more court cases.” Smiles nods. “Rule 2 — You don’t pick and choose the emergencies anymore. You send me everything, I choose what I’m going to help with.”

“But you can’t possibly—” Smiles protests.

“I can. And I will. Send me everything. If Gus wakes up, it takes priority.” Smiles nods again. He opens his mouth to speak, but Excelsior is gone.

Excelsior takes the stand with surprising dignity for a man wearing a cape and tights.

“Hold up your right hand and solemnly swear, I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

Excelsior says nothing. The Bailiff starts to repeat the oath. Excelsior says, “This is bullshit.”

Judge Perkins is so startled that he says, “excuse me?”

“I said it’s bullshit. That’s the truth. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Son, I’ve never charged a man in tights with contempt before. But don’t think that means I won’t.”

Excelsior holds up a small black box. “You know what this is? Of course you don’t. This is a pager. A very special kind of pager. And when it goes off, it means that something bad is happening somewhere in the world. Very bad. The kind of bad only I can handle.”

Judge Perkins pounds his gavel. “Mr. Excelsior, you will sit down! Or you WILL be held in contempt!” Excelsior reaches over and takes the gavel out of the judge’s hand.

“I have a headACHE,” Excelsior says as he crushes the gavel into dust. He turns back to the courtroom, “This pager has gone off three times since this bullshit trial started. I have never had to put up with this kind of nonsense before. He’s a bad man. A very, very bad man,” he says, pointing directly at Edwin Windsor.

“Objection!” Topper says. “The only bad man here is you. We have evidence, sworn affidavits!” Topper waves a pile of papers in the air. Excelsior squints and the papers are on fire. Topper drops the documents and stomps them out.

Edwin watches all of this as if it is happening on a television screen.

Excelsior continues, “Because I’m here at this farce of a trial, people are dying.” He reads from the pager. “A bridge collapsed in Oregon. There’s been a cave-in in Pennsylvania. And 134 brave souls are trapped on an experimental submarine at the bottom of the North Sea. These are all people I could be helping. But am I?

“No, I’m sitting here listening to this criminal. And just because he hasn’t been convicted doesn’t mean he hasn’t committed crimes.”

“I have committed no crimes,” says Edwin.

“He’s an accessory to every major villain I’ve faced in the last five years. This man is the brains behind the bad guys. The guy, behind the guy, behind the guy. Now I have to listen to him insult me? Bullshit. This costing people’s lives. I am out of here.”

Topper shrieks, “As you can see, he’s dangerous and unbalanced. Prone to fits of rage. He has an irrational hatred of my client. This man recognizes no law but his own.” Excelsior’s eyes flash again. Now the back of Topper’s suit is on fire. He runs around in a circle trying to put it out.

Excelsior steps from the witness stand and walks to Edwin. “And you. If you’ve got a problem with me. Be a man. Don’t try and let the courts do your work. You want a piece of me? You chickenshit suit. You can have a piece of me. Any time. Any place. Anyway you want to go. We’ll do it.”

Edwin looks at him with infinite calm. Excelsior turns on his heel and walks towards the door. He thinks that the matter is concluded. But the sound of a chair scraping against the hardwood floor tells him he is mistaken. When he turns around, Edwin stands in the middle of the courtroom.

“Fine,” says Edwin.

“Fine?” asks Excelsior. Unable to believe what he is hearing.

“Your terms are acceptable.”

“Oh you don’t know when to quit.”

“If the time for quitting presents itself,” says Edwin, “I will quit promptly and well. Let’s settle this.”

“So what’s it going to be Windsor?”

Topper looks at Edwin. The judge comes out from behind his bench. The reporters lean in. The sketch artist scribbles furiously, attempting to complete a drawing of Topper chasing his own flaming ass.

“Clubs,” says Edwin.

“Clubs? You got to be kidding, you want to fight me with a club? You’ll get killed. Besides, it’s not your style.”

“Golf Clubs. Tomorrow, 8:15, Belvedere Country Club. If you win, the case is dropped and I no longer advise villains. If I win, you leave me, and my clients, in peace.”

“Fine, I’ll be there,” says Excelsior.

Edwin, Topper, Edwin’s caddy and Judge Perkins have assembled on the first tee. The only way the Judge would agree to such an unusual form of arbitration was if he presided over it. And now the Judge is faced with this first ruling. Excelsior is late. As the Judge kicks one of the tee box markers he considers how long he should wait before declaring a forfeit.

The next time he looks up, his problem is solved. There, in the sky, is a wondrous sight. A man flying in cape and costume, but this time, his silhouette includes a bag of golf clubs. As Excelsior flies closer he calls out, “Is this Belvedere?”

“It is sir,” answers the Judge, “and you are late.”

“Sorry,” Excelsior says, “All these damn golf courses look alike from the air.” As Excelsior descends, a gust of wind buffets him. He twists and loses control of the golf bag. Clubs rain down on the first tee and everyone runs for cover.

“Oh Jeeze,” says Excelsior. His comment about finding the golf course is a lie. He had no idea that it would be so difficult to handle the golf clubs in flight. He has dropped them several times on the flight over.