Almost empty.
"Ah, Guts, y'all never shoulda taken' you're mama's advise." It was the General, standing with arms folded, directly in front of me - wearing a brown uniform.
"Of course - Project DISCUM, DISCUM meaning Dwight Issac Samual CUMberline. It was staring me right in the face the whole time. No wonder Patton's records were a dead end - you saw to it that they would be. And then you killed him - or did you just order him to do it himself?"
"Heh, heh. Yeah, I hated to have to lose him, but he was far too easy to break, so I had ta shut him up. 'Course, it became all the more urgent when YOU showed up, and started snooppin' around.
"By the way, that's a real snazzy uniform ya got there, General."
"Yeah, I had them make it brown, in case I spilled any Bosco on it. You like it? We can find one fo' you, if you want.."
"It's too late for that, General, the National Guard have got this whole sector cordoned off by now..."
He smiled. "Ah wouldn't worry 'bout that if I were you, boy. See, the Governer ordered me ta take personal charge of the whole search operation this mornin', so you can bet your truffles they ain't comin' round HERE today." He strolled over to the door, and opened it. Outside, the men were scurrying about, preparing for combat. "What do ya' think a them, eh Guts? Two months ago they were just a bunch of chocolate junkies, roamin' the streets for a fix, 'licking up' in some dismal back alley somewhere. Today, they're The Cocoa Commandos."
"You mean...?"
"That's right. We ain't gonna sink that ship, not right away, at least. Ya see, they're doin' it for the cocoa, not the money. But once the ship sinks, everyone will THINK the cargo went down with it."
This was gonna be tough. This wasn't merely a group of speculators protecting an investment, I was up against fudge-frenzied chocoholics.
One of the men rushed up to the General. "Five minutes to zero hour, Sir. Helicopter reports they're in position. What about our loose end, here?"
The two of them turned towards me. "Mr. Guts has decided that he prefers vanilla. Time to mix his batter, I'm afraid. Goodbye, Guts."
The commando called two others over, and untied me at gunpoint, after which they started marching me outside to the clearing. "Have you any last requests, Mr. Guts?"
It was longshot time. "Just a cigarette, thanks." We stopped long enough for him to light me up, then we continued toward the warehouse exit.
Ultimately, we came upon the clearing, and they set me against a tree. As they prepared to take aim, one of them looked me over closely. "Just a minute - what did you do with that cigarette?"
"Oh, it's probably still sitting on top of that ammo case where I dropped it..."
BBBBOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!
As the warehouse disintegrated into a ball of fire, I grabbed an M16 off of one of the startled guards, and plugged the three of them.
At that same instant, the tank, on the other side of the clearing, opened fire on the ship passing just offshore. The General was mounted on top, whooping and hollering with every shot. I grabbed a grenade from one of my ex-executioners, and charged toward the tank. As I got within throwing distance, the General turned around to see me toss it right under the Tiger's gas tank. Our eyes locked for a brief second - the General muttered "Oh, fudge!", and was promptly blown into oblivion.
My problem now was how to deal with the combat helicopter which had taken an instant interest in making Hersey's kisses out of me. As it descended from the sky right down on me, I took aim with my rifle and pulled the trigger, only to discover that the bolt had jammed (well, after all, it was Army surplus). As the chopper's rain of bullets riddled the ground before me, there was suddenly a tremendous explosion, and the bird simply ceased to exist. I turned around. At the far edge of the clearing, where I left those three commandos, there was now also two more soldiers dressed in green, and an Army jeep, to which was hitched a vintage Howitzer cannon. The taller soldier was bestowing a blessing on the cannon. The shorter one, who had fired it, called out to me.
"Did you see that, Mr. Guts? BOOM! Right in the old cockpit, just like in the Return of the Jedi. Boy was that cool...".
Rescued by a computer nerd - how would I ever live this down?
By the time we arrived at the Pacific Stock Exchange, word had already gotten out that the ship was safe. The price of cocoa had plummeted. We found Epson sitting on a stool in the corner, looking like someone had just sold him the Golden Gate Bridge. His suit was wrinkle-free. In his hand were dozens of unsold cocoa commodity receipts. He looked up, and smiled weakly at me. "You want to know something funny, Mr. Guts? I'm allergic to chocolate."
"Well, seeing as you're going to be spending the rest of your life in jail, I'd keep eating it, if I were you. It might help you break out."
As the MP's hauled Epson away, Chuck turned to me. "May God forgive you for that, my son, though I seriously doubt it."
I smirked. "Well, you know me, Chuck - I LIVE FOR DANGER!"
THE END