Ethan's Gang : Unholy War : Book I

Chapter 8 - Max Aphid's Journal

6:00 am, Ugly Coco Headquarters

     The fat man known as Max Aphid awoke in his private quarters up on the 6th floor of the seedy brick building.  The 6th floor was one large room, 75 by 160 feet, and it was completely empty except for a bed, in the middle of the floor.  This was Max Aphid’s room.  The headquarters compound was one floor below.  He tumbled out of bed, rolled across the floor like an idiot, and went tumbling down a chute.  As he tumbled through the chute, automatic machinery dressed him in his uniform and sprayed soap in his face.  The chute led to a trap door directly over his office and so, at 6:01 am, the director of Ugly Coco came plummeting out of a hatch in the ceiling and landed in his desk chair, ready to begin another day of evil scheming and subhuman ugliness.

     Today he had his meeting with Mayor Farbiss and his sidekick Doctor Blixxen, a meeting in which crime and ugliness was on the agenda—not how to prevent it, but how to CAUSE it.  But to Max Aphid, his scheme was not criminal or ugly.  The terrible tragedy that had befallen Donny and Jamey would have filled this vile man with delight.  He pointed at his secretary, Miss Gooch, and snapped his fingers.  On cue, the woman poured him a cup of hot Ovaltine—his standard breakfast.  ( For lunch he had TWO cups, and for dinner he ate 10 pounds of cat food—microwaved—with barbecue sauce. Nobody ever said he was normal. )

     He produced a scrapbook and began to leaf through it, enjoying fond memories of his organization’s past successes.  He believed that one should start the day by reviewing the past, and end the day by planning the future.  It was all part of his daily ritual.  Miss Gooch went back to reading her cheap romance novel.  Max didn’t mind.  The woman was trained to be a secretary, nothing more.  She,  in fact, actually believed that she worked for a telemarketing firm, simply because that’s what Max had told her.  Well… also because she had an IQ of 70.

     Max smirked with pleasure when he saw the first clipping in the scrapbook—a piece from the New York Times.  It was dated April 13, 1977.  He saw the date, and the headline, and stopped smirking.  He grimaced in fact, and turned the page quickly.  He didn’t want to read THAT, not now.  The memory was still fresh in his head.  It was Max Aphid’s big secret—the real reason behind his campaign of hate.  He could still smell the caramel corn, still see the blinking, flashing lights, still hear the disco music, still feel—NO!!

     He shut the door in his mind and went into the next room.

May 16, 1983---

a 14 year old boy was found dead in an alleyway with the word FAG carved in his forehead.  Police say he was stabbed 77 times, and they have no leads.

June 19, 1993---

     ( from the obituary page )

Melvin Maxwell Aphid, 100, died in his home yesterday after a brief and agonizing illness.  He was born in 1893 in New York City, and went to work at age 7 in a local factory.  He became a foreman in 1910, a shift supervisor in 1920, assistant plant manager in 1930, general manager in 1940, president of the board in 1950, and owner of the entire operation in 1960.  A great scandal occurred in 1963 when he was seen by a reporter sitting at his desk eating oatmeal while screaming, but no charges were filed by authorities.  He married Helen Frack in 1964, and she died of Polio in 1970.  He sold the factory in 1971 for 300 million dollars, and retired to his weird estate in the Adirondacks.  He is survived by a son, Max, 32, and a daughter, Hilda, 37, and 29 grandchildren.  Services are at noon at the big church on the corner.

     Max fondly remembered dear old dad.  The old man’s fortune had funded the creation of Ugly Coco.  His sister, Hilda, now 42, had 29 children.  She had gotten married at the age of 15 and given birth once every 9 months for the next 22 years.  Max never saw them—they didn’t like him, and he didn’t like THEM either.  He read the next clipping in his scrapbook…