A Novel Begins- titled- "Barbarella Epsilon Mattata-Hashish"

Chapter 1: Getting it done
Dash Hardan looked out over the wing. His flight to San Jose International Airport would take about 6 hours. Hardan detested that the airport hassle was quickly becoming as time consuming as actual flight time. Damn terrorists he thought to himself. I will make sure to kung fu all of them right in their stupid faces.
Hardan was no normal man on an airplane, and it would prove deadly for four East German neo-nazi’s. Hardan was a 38 year old former Pro Putt-Putt golfer, who also worked for the CIA, Navy Seals, Interpol, MI6, and was a part time Professional Booby Inspector. All of his skills have come in handy before. His wits were keen and he was hard. Hard and every other stereotypical masculine adjective that you could give one man.
Hardan first became suspicious as he saw two men near him in the front of the place looking around anxiously. He saw a tattoo on one of their arms, and noticed them speaking Nazi to each other.
“Wie geht’s?” said the tattooed man to the other.
“Es geht gut, und dir?”
“Gut. Wo ist die Toilette?”
“Es tut mir leid aber weisse ich nicht.”
Hardan recognized they were plotting something terrible even though he didn’t know any german. He quickly made a direct move to the bathroom. In there he took out a fountain pen, some toilet paper, some string, and four tampons out of his murse that he has never told anyone about. He quickly constructed a 1978 Russian submachine gun, the Yaryite.
Hardan opened the door just a creak to look out in to the fuselage to determine how many Nazi’s were on the flight. He looked and saw the two men he had seen before look at two attractive ladies, and then glance back at each other. Add those two chicks to the list. He determined then that those four were his main foes.
He burst out of the door and covered his eyes with one hand and darted four other shots with the other. All strikes right to the head. Bingo. Only wussies shoot with their eyes open.
The rest of the cabin screamed in horror as four people were shot dead before they realized what had happened.
“Everyone stay calm. My name’s Dash Hardan, I’ve eliminated the terrorist threat.”
A stewardess called out to him. “You crazy fuck, are you out of your mind? What made you think they were terrorists and who the hell is Dash Hardan?”
Apparently this innocent young maiden wasn’t so innocent after all. Hardan screamed out “Nazi bitch” and pumped three rounds in to her.
Several passengers, remembering the 9-11 hijackings, quickly overwhelmed Hardan and punched him in the face until he went to sleep. The plane was then emergency landed and the rest of the answers to these questions would be left up to the authorities.
Chapter 2: Captive
“Dash Artimis Hardan. Do we have your name correct sir?” Asked one of the two FBI agents giving the interview.
“I will tell you pigs nothing.”
“Is that seriously your real name, Dash?”
“Go fuck yourself.” Hardan had legally changed his name to Dash after being born Jacques. His mother and father were Cajuns who owned a small bait shop in Southeast Louisiana. His last name is pronounced ‘ardonne' with an 'h' in front of it. “I will tell you nothing, like I said.”
Hardan was fully aware of the conspiracy behind the US government. The 2-party system was a façade to keep every American living in a fantasy world. He knew that 8 corporate big whigs met bi-annually, and sometimes tri-annually (if a vote of 5 members determined that a third meeting was necessary). Everything else was pure smoke and mirrors.
“Look moron. You worked for the CIA and several other organizations. We have your name, blood type, and everything on file. Not to mention you left identification and a Hello Kitty diary in your murse.” The agents both let out a chuckle.
“I don’t see what the problem is. I eliminated five terrorists today. I'm a hero," said Hardan fully aware that his heroic act would be spun differently in the papers and the conspiracy that is the US government would never give him the credit he deserved.
“Hmm. You killed two American high school students, and a couple of sisters who waitress in Ohio. Then you killed a flight attendant.”
“High school students? Are you crazy? I heard those bastards speaking streudel and quickly determined their plans to hijack the aircraft. Once I saw them make visual contact with our “Ohioan waitresses”, I knew they were in on it. The stewardess being so quick to defend them only then convinced me of my oversight of a fifth terrorist. That’s when I dispatched her and then became knocked unconscious in the subsequent mob of gratitude.”
An agent hit a button and spoke in to a microphone on the wall. “Hey Jim, yeah we have a complete nutcase on our hands. Apparently this guy has delusions of grandeur just because he was a custodian at the Pentagon and Quantico and other agency buildings. We’re just going to haul him off and let him rot in prison”
Prison. Their plans were so predictable. And it falls right in to my plans. Jail is a retirement community compared to the places Hardan has been. He’d lived with 4 other people in a 4 bedroom suburban home with only one bathroom before. Sharing a toilet with one other person was as easy as shooting scum sucking terrorists

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jack Pflegel is a writer who lives in a small town in Bedford, New Hampshire. His educational background involves talking to some veterans at the local American Legion. Pflegel draws a lot of similarities of himself to the character in his action stories, Dash Hardan. Of course Pflegel in real life is a big time pussy who writes characters with similarities to himself to pretend like he is at least half male. Pflegel enjoys giving out random bits of information in his novels and working in every sort of smarmy ass high cultural piece of garbage he knows to prove to his audience how smart and cultured he is. If he isn’t talking about the intricacies of seat belts produced on Peugeot’s in the 1970’s, or 7th century Indonesian languages, then he is busy learning new ridiculous educational niches to absorb himself in to.