08-28-2011, 10:01 PM
Criss froze, clutching Hammie tightly to his chest. Carrot Top slowly drew himself closer to Criss, his eyes fixed on the bull's long white horns. The Black Angus stood there before them, staring them down, its huge nostrils flaring. "Don't make any sudden moves," Criss murmured to CT. "Just move real slow toward the entrance."
Carrot Top replied with a barely perceptible nod. Criss stroked his cat to keep him calm as both men inched their way toward the hotel. "Steady," Criss murmured quietly, "steady..."
Step by step, they made it just a few feet away from the Harley. The hotel entrance was several yards away, but in their predicament it seemed several miles distant. The bull didn't budge an inch from where he was standing, but kept watching the pair warily, as if waiting for the moment to strike. "We're almost there," Criss said encouragingly. "Just take it slow and don't run."
"Tell that to the bull," Carrot Top retorted.
Criss shushed him and kept on inching his way toward the hotel entrance, still stroking Hammie in his arms. They had reached the halfway point, but unfortunatly that particular spot left them wide open for attack. The bull seemed to sense this, for he broke into a trot toward Criss and Carrot Top, a prelude to a charge. Hammie suddenly shrieked and leapt out of Criss' arms.
"Hammeeeeee!" Criss screamed after him.
Hammie streaked for higher ground, in this case the top of the MindFreak Hummer. The cat deftly jumped onto the hood, then the roof of the tanklike vehicle, peering over the edge at the giant black bull below. Criss tried to make a dash to save his cat, but Carrot Top grabbed his arm to stop him. "Are you crazy, man?" he cried. "That bull will make hamburger out of you!"
"I gotta save Hammie!" Criss shouted.
"Never mind Hammie!" CT shouted back. "We gotta save ourselves!"
Heedless of his own safety, Criss bolted toward the Hummer. The bull spotted him and ran toward him, his horns lowered for the kill. Instinctively, Criss yanked open the driver's side door and dived inside, slamming it shut just barely in time to avoid impact from the angry bull. The Black Angus collided with the huge vehicle, causing it to shake on its giant tires. Where's Hammie? Criss thought frantically. I gotta save Hammie! He's on the roof--how do I get to him?
He looked around the interior of the Hummer. Passenger door, driver's door, rear door, all no good. Wait! The sunroof! He clambered into the back of the truck and fiddled with the manual latch of the black tinted glass dome (specially designed for emergency exits after accidents). "Come on, come on," he muttered impatiently.
Finally the glass dome released itself, and Criss climbed out through the sunroof. "Hammieeeeee!" he called out. "Where are you?!"
A flash of white caught his eye. He saw Hammie perilously perched too close to the edge of the Hummer. One good knock from the bull would send him toppling to the ground. Criss boosted himself up to the roof and began snaking himself toward his cat. "Come on, Hammie," he called to his cat, trying to control the terror in his voice. "Kittykittykittykittykittty! Come on, Hammie. That's a good kitty."
He reached out to grab the cat, but the Hummer was suddenly jolted by another blow from the bull. It took all of Hammie's feline skill not to fall off the roof: he hunched down on all fours, keeping his balance. Criss could only hang on, praying for some sort of deliverance for himself and his cat. With one desperate lunge, Criss grabbed Hammie by one of his rear legs and dragged him through the sunroof into the Hummer. Once inside, he slammed the sunroof window shut and secured the manual latch as securely as he could. "Safe at last!" he panted.
But how safe were they? There was still a six-hundred pound bull crashing against the half-ton Hummer. How long the armored vehicle could protect them was anybody's guess. He peered through a window and watched as the bull turned away and headed straight for the hotel. "Oh, my God!" Criss exclaimed.
His cell phone was out of his pocket in record time. "We got a bull out here at the Luxor!" he cried into the phone to the emergency dispatcher on the other end. "And he's (bleeped) off royal! Send the police! Send EMT! Send everybody!"
Meanwhile, Carrot Top had escaped into the hotel, screaming for help at the top of his lungs. "Mad bull! Mad bull outside! Somebody call nine-one-one!"
Felix Rappaport, the president of the hotel who just happened to be in the lobby, spotted CT. "What's going on?" he demanded.
"Listen!' CT cried frantically. "You gotta get help! There's a raging bull out there, and I ain't talking about Robert DeNiro! He's got Criss trapped in his own Hummer!"
Rappaport was incredulous. "A bull?"
"Swear to God, a real bull!" CT shouted. "And Criss is in the carport in his Hummer with him!"
As if to confirm the danger, several guests and hotel staff members came running into the lobby, screaming in terror. A large black object tried to break through the tempered glass dividing the hotel from the carport, causing it to spiderweb on impact. Sizing up the situation, Rappaport turned to the terrified desk clerk. "Call emergency," he ordered. "Tell them we got trouble."
The clerk snatched up the phone and pressed the emergency call button. "Please hurry!" she pleaded. "We've got a mad bull trying to break into the Luxor!"
Meanwhile, Rappaport tried his best to restore order out of the sudden chaos. "Everybody calm down!" he shouted over the din. "The safest place right now is in the Grand Ballroom. Please, everybody, move to the Grand Ballroom in an orderly manner."
The crowd moved to the Grand Ballroom, but not in an orderly manner--panicked, they stampeded into the large, windowless room, protected only by two heavy wooden doors with its gilded Egyptian carvings. Rappaport sent word to the rest of the guests and staff to take cover in the stairwells until the "emergency", as he put it, had passed and the all clear was given. Security personnel were to secure all exits and wait for furthur instructions, and in no way were they to try to engage the bull in any confrontation. "Leave that to the professionals," he ordered.
Outside, the Black Angus trotted around the main entrance, sending pedestrians and drivers fleeing in all directions. He could not chase them all, so he just remained where he was, laying siege to the hotel with his mere presence, almost daring anyone to approach him.
The wail of police sirens accompanied by flashing red and blue lights dazed and confused the beast, enraging him furthur. With a loud bellowing roar, the Black Angus charged at the first squad car he encountered, plowing headlong into the side of LVMPD Squad Car Number 208. Bulletproof glass cracked and splintered from the force, and the driver's side door caved in from the impact. The two officers inside were jostled like dice in a crapshooter's cup.
"208 requesting backup!" shouted one of the officers into the car radio. "We're gonna need a SWAT team to handle this (bleeper)!"
The bull, however, was not finished with Squad Car 208--it plowed again into its side, nearly upending it. Then the beast reared up on its hind legs and charged toward it, colliding with the radiator. The hood buckled upward; oil and radiator fluid trickled like blood onto the pavement. The few bystanders present screamed in horror at the sight of this demonic animal attacking one of Vegas's Finest. Police officers burst out of the other squad cars, weapons drawn but unable to save their comrades from the raging bull.
"What do we do now, Sarge?" a young police officer asked his CO as he witnessed the destruction of the cruiser.
"Tell 'em to fire up the grill and break out the A-1 sauce!" the sergeant retorted. "I want this (bleeper) served up on a platter!"