Hiltrus’ Last Stand

George Hiltrus was not a nice man.  And no one cared anymore because he was dead.  However, Hiltrus’ spirit still lingered somewhere on the farfetched planet of Plinus, which is the tenth rock from the sun.  However, George Hiltrus was a devout atheist, and prayed to no one that he’d someday escape from that disgusting vacuum cleaner.  One day, a twenty-something Plinusian named Dongifcop who had just gotten a job at Zlorfik’s Legitimate Cleaning Services, was vacuuming the house of a middle-class Plinusian named Lissof Mon.  Dongifcop then realized his vacuum cleaner had run out of gas, so he decided to use Lissof Mon’s backup battery-powered vacuum.  Dongifcop was then bitten badly by a green creature that rapidly flew out of the device, quite possibly the abominable Algeb’s cousin—but in reality, George Hiltrus.

“Hmmm,” said Hiltrus to himself, “it seems I am free from that vacuous hellhole.  Now, I must start an army and defeat Jid!”  Hiltrus laughed cunningly, having forgotten over the years that Walter Jid was deceased.  “I’ll start in Frisco.  That’s an ideal location to start an army, considering all my friends live there!”

Hiltrus, however, realized he couldn’t do that just yet, as his real best friend was a resident of far-off stereotypical Alaska.

Hiltrus made his way to a volcano.  This particular volcano had been the headquarters of “Hiltrus’ Hunters,” a sort of secret society he and Rastik—that was his friend—had started in the year 2006.  2006 was a big year in history due to the capture of Osama bin Laden, but Hiltrus didn’t give a damn about history.

“Yeah, is this Rastik?” wondered Hiltrus.  No answer.  “I forgot that Rastik’s dead.  Jid musta eliminated him from the human race.”  With a bang, Hiltrus left that volcano for the last time.

When we last left off with our hero Walter Jid—he was dead thanks to our ghostly antagonist.

When we last left off with our hero Walter Jid’s seven-minute-older brother Joey Jid, he had broken up with his attractive wife Melissa, and he currently was living near the SEA-TAC airport, far away from his wife and son.

Melissa sat in the comfy living room of the tremendous house her ex-husband bought her, with her current husband, Tom Taggart.

Tom was a former criminal from a small village in Spain known as Diablo.  Originally named Rojo Toro, Tom Taggart had made a hug change in his imperfect life by becoming a trustworthy man.  Sure, his uneven black beard and nicotine-smothered teeth looked completely unacceptable in comparison to Melissa Taggart’s waist-length brown hair and shiny white teeth, but neither of them seemed to care.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door.  It was John, Melissa’s son, realized Tom.  John was seven years old, as he was born in early 2014.  Tears were in his big blue eyes that were unmistakably Joey’s.

“That neighbor kid from down the street punched me,” cried John Jid.

“What’s his name, Johnny?” asked Melissa in her calm voice.

“I dunno,” John wailed.  “He’s only a few years older than me.”
Tom left abruptly and went door-to-door across the street looking for John’s tormentor.  He was surprised to see than Melissa’s older sister, Leslie Galb, a former love interest of his, was dating his unemployed loser buddy, Bert Ernus.

When Tom was about to knock on No. 72, he was stopped by Bert again.  “Mr. Taggart—“

“Call me Tom.  We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, sure.  Tom, I heard on CNN that several people in San Francisco believe to have seen a ghost.”
“Hiltrus’ GONE, Bert,” Tom chuckled.

“No, he can’t be.  It has to be him.”
Tom knocked once on the unappealing gray door of No. 72.

“I’m serious, Tom.  Hiltrus is back, and he’s got friends.”
*                                       *                                       *

George Hiltrus decided to call his brother Gregory.

“Hey Greg?  This is George, your seldom-seen older brother.”

“This isn’t Greg!  This is yer old uncle, Harold!”

“Harold must be dead!  I’m 75!”

“I’m ninety-three.  Remember, I’m your mom’s YOUNGER BROTHER?” questioned the incredibly shaky voice of Harold Krupp.

“Oh, so you are alive?” smirked George.

“Yes!”
“Oh.  I’m not.”

“What the—“

“Uncle Harold, I’m dead.  All that’s left is my ghost.”

“Oh my—get away!” screamed Harold, and he hung up.
*                                                 *                                       *

Tom Taggart knocked once more on No. 72’s door, and was answered by a short blonde woman in her late forties.  She looked miserable.

“Hello, I’m Tom Taggart.  My son John was—wait, Diane?”

“Yes, Tom, it’s your former lover, Diane Spirk.  Well, I was Diane Spirk,” Diane said, suggesting hatred for her new name.  “Joe ran off, you see, to go ‘south’ after our son was born.  Hasn’t been seen since.”

Diane led Tom inside a crummy-looking den.  Tom noticed her husband’s picture, which had an odd resemblance to Joe the Wanderer from San Francisco…

“Now, why’d you come here, Tom?” asked Diane.

“You see, my stepson, John Jid, was beaten up by a neighborhood boy.”

“It was probably our son Kenny.  He’s an odd kid, Kenny.”

“What the heck didja just say?” asked a voice, and a small, stout blond boy came in.  He was wearing a strange T-shirt that said, “Chad Rock” on it.

“This is Kenny Cronmaker, my son.”

“Holy crap, Joey knows him,” muttered Tom.

“Wait, Jid?  Bought some Jid guy a while ago,” realized Kenny Cronmaker.

“Bought?  I’ll kill you, Kenny!” shouted Tom, and he left Diane’s shack.

“Now, Kenny,” Diane angrily stated to her crazy son, “why’d you buy someone?”
“He was dead.  Wasn’t like those slaves we learn about in school!” yelled Kenny, and he slammed the door.

*                                       *                             *

George Hiltrus had done it.  He had started an army, that consisted of Carl Glep and Lenny Jumguts, two dim-witted teenagers, ex-Vice President Herbert Ertims, and Max McNommer, who was very easy to persuade due to the fact that he would be on anyone’s side.

“You know, Mr. Hiltrus, I helped the police arrest Jid.”

“Very good, Max.  You surely belong on my side.”

“So, Mr. Hiltrus, what do you think about the government?” asked Ertims.  “We’ve got everything that we need.”

“Whatever.  It’s not politics that interests me.  American politics, at least.”

“I quit then!” yelled Ertims, and he turned his back on a puzzled Hiltrus and headed towards his manor, where he’d catch up on his sleep.

*                                       *                             *

“Missy, I’m home,” mumbled Tom as he returned to his beloved wife and stepson.

“Tom, did you give Andy a taste of his own medicine?” wondered John.

“His name’s Kenny,” Tom said.

“No, honey, his name is actually Andy Alslo.  He’s the son of my boss, Arik Alslo,” said Melissa.

“Oh-no, I already had enough trouble with this Kenny Cronmaker character.  His family owns Walter.”

“Huh?  Walter’s deceased!” Melissa replied.

“Nope.  Walter may be dead, but the Cronmakers own his body.”

“Don’t be preposterous!  Johnny, Uncle Walter is buried in the ceme…”

“Um…John, Walter’s your father.”

“NOOOO!” wailed John.  “My dad is Joey Jid.  He has to be.”

“Tom, stop lying about Walter,” Melissa scolded Tom.

“I swear this Cronmaker’s evil.  He’s the product of Joe the Wanderer and my ex-girlfriend Diane.  Look, I try not to lie, and when I do, it’s not like this.”

“OK, I guess I believe you.  You don’t have to go looking for Andy Alslo, allright?”

“Sure, Missy.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

*                                       *                                       *

News of George Hiltrus’ rise to power influenced Ziggy Zarves, the clumsy black catcher for the San Francisco Giants.  After completing page E9 in the newspaper, Ziggy left the team for a life of what he didn’t know was crime.

However, Calvin and Linda Eddino, the former President and First Lady, didn’t even think of joining Hiltrus after Calvin’s Dartmouth roommate and Vice President Herbert Ertims complained of Hiltrus’ anti-Americanism.  Melvin Snix didn’t want to join, definitely not after the rumors of what Hiltrus did to his uncle, the original Johnny, Johnny Lurg.

*                                       *                                       *

The deceased body of Walter Jid now belonged to Tom and Melissa until his burial.

“So Tom, did you hear about my father’s killer?” snapped Melissa one morning.

“Hiltrus, eh?”

“Yes.  George Hiltrus.”

“Well…er…yes.”

“From whom?”

“Bert Ernus.  You know, you might have Bert for a brother-in-law soon.”

“Seriously, Tom?”

“Yes.  You see, Bert’s engaged—yeah—to your sister Leslie.”
“Well, this is huge news, even though it’s not on the front page.  You know, George Hiltrus is dead, but Walter and Dad aren’t ghosts.”

“You’re right, Melissa.”
“Also, George Hiltrus was once my dad’s most trusted friend.  What happened?”

*                             *                             *

George Hiltrus, those two teenagers, Max McNommer, and Zarves were alone at Max’s old home.

“So, Max, we attack Joey first.”

“OK, I’m prepared for it!”

“And, Ziggy, don’t be afraid to use your baseball skills.”

What baseball skills?”

“You know, the ones you used on Jim Soot in 2017.”

“I’m confused.”

“Never mind, Ziggy.  Let’s go for it.”

*                   *                   *

On the tenth rock from the sun, the Plinusians were mourning at a funeral for Dongifcop.

Henckh, the sickly father of Dongifcop’s friend Jiparolch, made a speech about how the death was very uncanny, but the whole community of Plinus decided the Dagger must not be the meaning of their peaceful life.

Mr. Flahrdaug Tode, the most eloquent scholar on Plinus, decided that all Plinusians must agree to spend three years in their life searching for the true Meaning of Plinusian Life, or  be sent to exile on Bernum.

*                                       *                             *

Joey Jid was sitting on his leather couch watching a rerun of Curb Your Enthusiasm on his 42” plasma television, when there was a loud boom upstairs.  Joey nervously ran up three flights of stairs and came face-to-face with Max McNommer.

“Hello Joey,” Max said.  “I’m supposed to be working for Hiltrus, trying to kill you, but…”

“Shut the hell up!” Ziggy Zarves told him.  “You’re more idiotic than our shortstop, Kevin O’Clock.”
“Why do you want to kill me?” Joey wondered.  “It’ll get you nailed and screwed and hacked!”

“That’s what I’m wondering.  I mean, I’m just a poor boy from a poor family,” Max explained.

“Hell, I’m a former Giant and you’re more well-off than me!”

“I don’t think so.  Look, let’s let Joey off the hook.”

“Allright!  I’m freaking hot!” laughed Joey.

“Let’s not go there,” Ziggy groaned, and he and Max left the scene knowing they’d have major explaining to do for Hiltrus.

*                                       *                                       *

Tom and Melissa Taggart decided to call the police, for they knew they were being stalked by George Hiltrus.

“…no, he’s a ghost,” said Tom Taggart to Officer Daunsk.

“A ghost?  Ghosts aren’t real, kid.  Whydja call me?”

“I swear, the ghost of my wife’s dad’s enemy has sought his revenge.”

“And my dad’s brother’s nephew doesn’t care!  Kid, never call 911 again as a prank,” snapped Daunsk, and his voice faded out as he hung up.

*                             *                             *

“Let me see, you bastards actually let Joey Jid GO FREE?” roared George Hiltrus.

“Uh-huh,” Ziggy weeped, “but it was Max’s idea.”

“I don’t care whose goddam idea it was.  Both of you are expelled from the gang!”

“But that leaves just us, dude,” Lenny Jumguts reminded Hiltrus.

“Yeah—us,” added Carl Glep.

“You two are fired instead of the catcher and the lawyer.”

*                                       *                                                           *

“They freakin’ threatened to kill me!” Joey pleaded to Melissa.

“Joey, I already told you, I don’t trust you.”

“Why shouldn’t you trust Joey?” wondered Tom Taggart.  “I mean, we’re all aware of what’s going on with Hiltrus.

“You know who could save our stupid behinds?” asked Joey.

“Who?  Frank Ramut?  Ralph Gornit?” Tom guessed.

“Naughty Naut,” decided Joey, referring to his drunken futuristic descendant.

“No.  Just no,” Tom said.

“C’mon!”

“Yeah, he could help us,” agreed Melissa Taggart.

“It’s all decided then.  Joey, got that black button?”

“Sure!  It’s in the shorts!”  He pulled it out of his expensive-looking short pants.  He pushed the button.

*                                       *                                       *

Ziggy knocked on the bronze door that belonged to Bert Ernus and Leslie Galb.

“Hello?” asked Leslie in her sweet voice.

“Why, hello, would you be interested in the Kingdom of Heaven?” lied Ziggy, who was dressed in a gaudy suit and tie.

“No, I’m happy being Catholic,” replied Leslie.

“That’s too bad.  The Kingdom is one of the most influential religions in Seattle.”

“You look very familiar,” Bert decided, “almost like Ziggy Zarves.”

“Oh good, a guy who actually knows the names of all the Giants,” lamented Ziggy.

“Why are you trying to convert us?” wondered Leslie.

“Well, it was George Hiltrus’ idea.  You see, he’s a huge fan of that old movie, Clue.

“The one based on the detective game!” snickered Bert.

“Hiltrus looks like Mustard, I’ll give him that,” Ziggy said.

“Are you sure you want to kill us?” Leslie asked Ziggy politely.

“Nah—I’m done with that great green gremlin,” decided Ziggy Zarves, and he left the house to rejoin the San Francisco Giants.

*                                       *                             *

“I don’t um—get what you want from me,” Naughty Naut told our heroes.

“You know, can’t you help us change Hiltrus’ past so that he’d be an innocent man?” Melissa asked.

“No thanks.  I mean, we could, I’ve got the TimeWarp™ in the garage, but messing with someone’s past does more harm than help, dude.”

“Is there anyone who actually can help us?” questioned Tom.

“Uh-huh.  But you’ll have to solve a riddle.  Mmkay, who’s that bozo from Citobor?”

“Hank Jabbo?” Tom guessed incorrectly.

“Professor Alexander Metalworks.  A good friend of mine, to be exact.”

“Huh?  He’s from the past…”

“Metalworks is dead,” Joey smirked.  “Once you’re dead, that’s it.”

“Hiltrus is dead,” Naughty Naut reminded him.  “Before that cell on Citobor was a prison, it was a ghost-creating chamber.

“How do you get Metalworks here?  Use that damn button?” Joey asked.

“What do you think?” Naughty Naut snickered.  The button was pushed, but after the usual yellow light, there was no effect.  “It’s buffering.  Ghosts are hard to teleport,” he explained.

“How long are we supposed to wait for this miracle worker?” wondered Joey.

Suddenly, the black button exploded into approximately seventeen pieces, and out of its high voltage-ensured remains came a figure, that of a transparent blue body dressed in a milky-white scientist’s garment and with the face of an aged human being.  Walter Jid had seen this figure once—in a dream years ago.

“Hail mortals,” boomed Alexander Metalworks in a monotonous drawl.

“Hullo, Professor,” Melissa greeted the elderly ghost.

“We need you to help us defeat George Hiltrus,” Tom told him.

“Just one second.”  Metalworks snapped his wrinkled navy-blue fingers and George Hiltrus came into Naughty Naut’s abode.

“What the…” began Hiltrus.  “Alexander Metalworks?”

“No, I am your father,” Metalworks stated unfunnily in that boring voice of his.  “Yes, it is I.”

“Well, gimme the best you got.  I haven’t got ‘til Sunday.”

“Sure, George, I will give you the best I have got.”  Metalworks opened his mouth that was originally hidden by his mustache to reveal thirty-two massive golden teeth.  “Made these fillings from scratch, and they will scratch you.”
“No, they won’t,” Hiltrus explained, “I’m a gho…”  Hiltrus was lifted off his feet and found his way down the planet-creator’s throat and was eventually digested to make way for dead glowing green excrement.

*                                       *                             *

Tom Taggart was lying in bed the night after the second death of Hiltrus.  Melissa was asleep, and Tom had insomnia.  Suddenly, Tom realized he was facing three blurry figures.  Tom squinted, and they came into focus.  Tom looked in awe at all three.

The first was of a ten-year old boy.  A boy Tom had never seen before, but had heard several tales of.  The boy had a look of determination in his dark eyes, and was dressed in peculiar tan robes.  He was killed by George Hiltrus over a decade before—and his name was Willy Jib.

The second was of a character Tom knew much better.  He was a little under seventy years old and had a friendly face.  He was chuckling, and was obviously Johnny Lurg—George Hiltrus’ once best friend that he left fifteen years ago.  He doubled as Tom’s father-in-law.  The third figure was unmistakably our hero, Walter Jid.

“Hiltrus’ dead?  I can’t believe it!” Johnny rejoiced.

“That’s half the news.  The other news is that starting tomorrow, the three of us will rejoin the living human race,” Walter explained, “but we will not be immortal, so don’t get us into any risky situations, because if you do and we meet our fate, that will be the permanent end for us.”

“And please adopt me.  You see, my parents abandoned me when I was six,” explained Willy.  “Give me a chance to be a pilot!”

“Wait, you’re—ghosts?” wondered Tom.

“Souls, to be exact,” said Johnny, confusing Tom into sleep.

*                                                 *                             *

Max McNommer was laying on a plain white-colored bed in a room with plain white walls—an asylum.  A physician was looking over his cot.

“Oy vey, Max, you appear to have a syndrome unknown to man.  We’ll have to consult Dr. Gazinsky on this.”  The doctor groaned, and left the room.

Max said hello to the mental patient next to him, who was a now clean-shaven Victor.

“Laman teeskeru,” moaned Victor absent-mindedly, and Max guessed Victor was saying, “Welcome to the jungle,” to him—but he wasn’t positive.

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