Strips
Tall Tank Tales
Lava
The worst thing about lava is the realization of its form - molten rock. A rock so fucking hot it’s liquid. Now that’s HOT! Most of us don’t worry much about molten rocks or other solids that turn to liquid when they get rilly rilly hot. This is primarily because such things are not common occurrences Ð you won’t stumble onto this sort of thing by accident. For instance, if you are shopping at the store and you pull a box of rice off the shelf, there is little danger that lava will begin to flow from the gap on the shelf. Such were the thoughts of Tank Girl and her furry pal Booga.
"Where the fuck are we?" Tanky called up to Booga who was piloting the tank.
"The globe says we should be close to the 42nd parallel," He replied.
"Try the map. It’s in my bag."
"Yes it was... until I used it to start the campfire last night."
"Well that’s a predicament," she replied calmly, "I guess we’ll have to steal another one."
The two blindly plodded onward, with no particular destination, watching the mountains on the horizon slowly approaching. It wasn’t often that they would put down their guns and knives and admire the scenery, but without a map they didn’t have much else to look at. Of particular interest was one peak that was encircled in fog.
"Ya know... Its kinda odd to see fog on a hot day," remarked Tanky.
"Maybe it’s a tall mountain and it’s colder up there, thus creating a cloudy appearance due to the temperature differential?" suggested Booga.
"What’re you? Reading books again or something?" she chided, adding, "Looks like smoke to me".
"Yeah, I’ll be you’re right, cause we all know how well dirt burns."
It was these charming interludes that can make a relationship work. In fact their disputes often resulted in angry sex that always seemed more powerful for some reason. They loved each other, but found the physical side of their relations the most rewarding. Mostly because they both loved to eat and smoke Ð two activities that can be quite appealing after a romp around the tank... so to speak.
"Fuck you. That mountain is definitely on fire," Tanky declared, "I don’t care what you say. That’s fuckin’ smoke. Clouds or fog, my ass!
"I suggest you take a closer look," Booga said as he nudged his beloved Tank Girl off the top of the tank and onto her ass. She landed with a thud below.
"Bastard!" she yelled.
"Can’t hear. Loud tank!" he called back, smiling, as he brought the Tank to a halt.
"Gimme the scope. I wanna take a look at your foggy mountain," she muttered looking off in the distance.
He tossed the scope down, cracking her on top of the head. She smiled and threw a large rock at him Ð hitting him square in the face. Having each injured the other, they were in a truce state and both became infinitely curious about the peak in the distance. She was right Ð it was smoke and it was about to get hotter in the shade.
"Can’t see shit from here. Lets go!" Tanky yelled scampering up the side of the tank and disappearing down inside.
Full speed for a tank is amazingly faster than the average person would think. This is particularly true when a hotheaded woman with a need for speed has tinkered with it. Tank Girl and Booga sped toward the mountain and got quite close to its base within minutes.
"It’s hot here," Booga spouted, "And damn it smells bad".
"Fuck," Tanky said banging her head, "Stop farting and it might smell a bit better around here!"
The ground rumbled and more "fog" appeared around the peak of the mountain.
"That’s not fog," she stated.
"No kidding."
"Thinkin’ what I’m thinking?"
"I’ll get out the grill," he replied with a hungry grin and a wink.
"Ya know what love is?" she asked, lighting up a cigarette, "It’s knowing when to roll with the punches and when to beat the crap outta someone! You’re coming close to getting the crap beaten outta ya!"
The ground rumbled again - longer this time than last. They stood looking at each other as their puzzled looks turned to annoyance as the mountain rumbled again. This time rocks and debris came sliding down its sides and the ground around them shook furiously. Time to go!
Getting back to our discussion of lava, molten rocks and the ensuing tragedy that often comes with scenario... Our two blundering bad-asses wondered briefly about their current circumstance and climbed onto the tank.
"Lets get a closer look," she mused, " I’ve never seen an earthquake".
"Totally!" Booga called as he fired up the tank.
They began their ascent of the mountain’s gradual incline not stopping to wonder if tanks were designed for this type of terrain or if they should tackle the ascent in the midst of what they thought was an earthquake. Ten minutes and several ground-shakes later the top blew off the mountain Ð so to speak. Molten lava poured from the peak and splattered across the landscape.
"Hand me my parasol. It’s a fuckin’ shit storm out here," cried Tanky. He handed her the umbrella. It had a picture of a mother duck and several ducklings following her around the brim. Fiery embers quickly burned holes in the parasol and the entire umbrella went up in flames seconds later. Booga then appeared with the iron lid to the hotdog grill, "How’s this for a parasol?"
Fiery embers were raining down all around them. Booga’s solution seemed better than a fancy umbrella as far as avoiding a bad burn or death. Neither of them seemed to think this was terribly strange and they watched with avid fascination rather than fear. Sometimes it’s better to not know things. The fiery rain seemed interesting enough to halt their ascent of the mountain, but didn’t seem to inspire running Ð or driving Ð away!
Over a crackly megaphone they heard a voice.
"This is Ranger Stevenson of the National Park Service," the voice resounded with authority, "You are parked on my volcano and I must ask you to leave."
"Is this guy for real? HIS fucking volcano!" she mumbled to Booga.
"It may be his, the globe doesn’t mention anything about ownership of the world," Booga pointed out.
"Screw him. He doesn’t own shit. He’s some lackey hired to baby-sit a pile of dirt," Tanky resolved.
"Again, I must ask you to leave," the voice called, "Lava is very dangerous and I’m not allowed to let people die Ð at least not during the tourist season."
Peering out from under the protection of the grill lid, Tank Girl aimed her rifle at the Ranger and took a shot.
"Please do not shoot at me," the voice insisted, "I am unarmed and here to help you."
"Aha," Tanky said with a smirk, "Full auto should do the trick."
A hail of automatic gunfire echoed and a whiff of smoke curled from the end of her barrel.
"For the last time," continued the droning Ranger, "I must insist you come down here and be civil."
" We’d better fire up the beast and see what this guy wants," Booga said.
"I used to be a much better shot," she uttered sadly.
"Lets get closer. Perhaps you can kill him at closer range."
They lumbered the tank back to the flat ground where the Ranger was waiting in his truck.
"Who do you think you’re yelling at with that silly voice-horn?" Tanky asked indignantly.
"Ma’am, you’re not permitted to drive tanks here and there’s an active volcano erupting in the background," he replied.
"Whatever! Do you own the world, too?" she lit a cigarette, handed it to Booga and fired three rounds into Ranger Stevenson’s truck. She took the cigarette back.
"Be that as it may," he tried, "Lava is flowing towards us and I need to write you a citation for trespassing and for shooting at me and my truck."
"Tell you what", Tanky reasoned, "You go fuck yourself with that fancy voice-horn and we’ll pretend we don’t want to cause you any harm. How’s that grab ya?"
Ranger Stevenson got into his truck, with a pissed off expression, and sat leering at Tank Girl and Booga.
"We showed HIM!" declared Tank Girl, "What’s the matter?"
"What’s the red stuff?" Booga asked.
"Weren’t you listening to the fucking Ranger? Its LAVA!"
As they bickered about the lava, it was now pouring from the volcano Ð formerly referred to as a mountain Ð and this sea of red molten rock was oozing towards our famed duo at a hastening rate.
"Well, we’d better get to safer ground," Tanky said.
"Let’s go, honey!" Booga yelled most triumphantly.
The tank engine sputtered, choked, made a horrible metal-against-metal chirp and stopped dead - smoke poured from the side. At a certain level, this is known as bad timing.
"Help me pull this chain out," Tanky yelled over her shoulder.
"Isn’t that for a ship?" Booga pointed out.
"I don’t see any fucking boats, so it must be for TANKS," she sputtered, attaching the heavy chain to the front of the tank.
CLUNK!!
She fastened, in a manner of speaking, the chain to the rear of Ranger Stevenson’s truck.
"Think it’ll hold?" she asked Booga with a defiant grin that evoked ÔHell yeah’.
"I suppose, but I still think we require a boat".
"How about you Ranger? What’s your thought, here?" she posed.
In a weak voice, he simply said, "You’re trying to kill me aren’t you?"
"Kill you! Hell no!" she scrapped, "We’re letting you save the day by towing us to safety"
The Ranger wondered why he hadn’t called in sick that morning and simply enjoyed his cup of coffee, read the paper and maybe gone to the shore for a relaxing walk. Instead he was angry, sitting in the path of a volcanic eruption and attached to a tank via a heavy chain and a ship’s anchor that could easily have held the Queen Mary in place during a stiff breeze.
Tank Girl being a resourceful gal, has come across this treasure (gigantic anchor) quite some time ago and thought it may be of use someday. And right she was!
As she tied a rope around the Ranger’s neck, she offered some guidance, "This is sorta like a horse and carriage. Get if? You’re the horse!!"
The Ranger’s eyes rolled, but he was overwhelmed by recent events and just sat glumly in his truck. Tanky climbed up the tank, with the rope in her hand, and joined Booga.
"When I give a tug, you hit the gas... OK?" Tanky called to the Ranger in a cheerful tone.
He waved his hand out the window and Tanky gave the rope a jerk. They heard a strange noise come from the truck (or perhaps it was it’s driver), but The truck started, the chain became taught and slowly the tank began to move.
"Excellent!" Booga cried, raising his fist in the air, "That was brilliant. We’re going to live!"
"That Ranger sure is swell. A bit of a fuddy-duddy, but he saved us!"
"A monument should be erected in his likeness!"
"A pillar of triumph to his deed!"
"A key to the city..."
"Hey, where the fuck is he going?" Tanky yelled giving the rope a hard tug.
The Ranger fell backwards making wheezing and choking sounds.
"Ugh," he grunted, "I want to go home."É "Well we all want that, but you have a party to attend," Tanky informed the downtrodden Ranger.É "Sure," Booga followed, "You’re our hero and we want to buy you a drink and offer you a carton of stolen cigarettes."É Through a dismayed look Ranger Stevenson gasped, "I’m a recovering alcoholic and I don’t smoke."É "Pity for you," Tanky scolded reeling in the rope that was still around his neck, "It was going to be fun, but if your goal is to be a skitty little party pooper, then we’ll have to go without you."
Ranger Stevenson seemed relieved - finally. But it was short lived.
As Tank Girl and Booga left the scene, they ran over the Rangers truck Ð very delicately and only on the front corner. As he rolled his eyes and was about to curse their very existence, he realized that there was never anything wrong with their tank.