The Harajuku Girls vs. Hitler

Adolf peddled his bicycle through pale, chilly air so thick with moisture that onlookers mistook the glowing orb of his flashlight for God himself. He imagined the Bible would be full of stories about this trip, if it was ever written at all. He was waiting to decide whether to kill or merely kidnap the Christ child until he knew his time machine could get him back. There was no point being stuck in the year zero with nothing to do.

Adolf was confident he could raise the baby to be right-minded despite his unfortunate ancestry. It was a mutant conceived of alien experiments and obviously superior to the standard Juden. Surely, Jesus would be able to wrap his mind around the basic concepts of Nazism.

The ability to work miracles would be a godsend for the Reich.

Adolf giggled at his little pun, then frowned remembering the horrible misrepresentations he’d read about himself in the future. Not one book mentioned he was funny. They called him charismatic like it was an insult. Stupid liberals. Well, next time history is written it will be by winners with a sense of humor.

His stomach twinged. He would have to find a bathroom soon. Nazi science had discovered the key to time travel, but IBS remained incurable.

Life is funny. His stomach twinged again. Funny like a Jew.

Adolf remembered there were no such things as bathrooms. “Schizer!” He pounded on the handlebar with his fist, each blow making the flashlight flicker and rattle in its harness. It was a piece of garbage from the future, much smaller and brighter than the flashlights of his time, but so cheaply made he’d be surprised if it lasted the week. He did love the head-strap idea. He should have thought of that.

He stopped his bike, grabbed the headlamp, and ran off to spatter a bush with diarrhea.

His attack lasted several minutes. When he finished, he pulled tissues out of his fanny pack and wiped until there was no more green. “Eww, it smells like Auschwitz.”

Sighing, he pulled up his pants and plodded back to his bike.

God how he hated bicycles, with their uncomfortable little seats jarring his butthole a million times a second. That was probably why his stomach was playing up. After being a bike messenger in WWI, he never wanted to lay eyes on a bike again. But driving a Beetle through the streets of ancient Jerusalem would draw the wrong kind of attention, whereas bikes were quiet and easy to hide.

He had just begun to peddle when he saw the lights. Huge, otherworldly explosions of color pulsed on the road ahead triggering flashbacks to his messenger days. He imagined he saw brave, German corpses littering the street. The ground shook with mortar fire.

He turned and saw the lights were all around him. He was surrounded.

“Schizer!”

He drew his pistol and fired three shots into the murk.

A woman’s voice blared from a megaphone. “Please stop shooting. We come in peace.”

His stomach twinged again. “Who is there?”

“We are the Harajuku Girls.”

“Harajuku? Did Hirohito send you? How did he know I was here?”

“No. We are from the future.”

“The future? What future?”

Another woman’s voice responded from somewhere to his right. “We come from 2017.”

“No, do you come from the glorious future I made or the awful one I came from?”

The women spoke from all directions at once.

“Uh,”

“I’m not sure?”

“Which one had Nickleback?”

“He means, did the Nazi’s win World War Two.”

“Oh. Nope, you guys always lose.”

His stomach lurched. He wondered if they could see him and whether he had time for a quick evacuation. The leader of the master race could not be executed in the middle of the road during a messy BM. Such an indignity would echo throughout time, dooming Aryans to a future of servitude and sadness. He popped the top on his gas medicine and swallowed a mouthful while the women continued to insult him.

“Populist leaders always make rash judgments in war.”

“Yeah, ego totally gets in the way of rationality.”

Adolph quietly slid the clip out of his pistol and added three more bullets. “What is a Harakuju girl?”

“Harajuku! We’re professional dancers.”

“We dance for love, friendship, and so that people don’t notice how old Gwen’s getting.”

The girls laughed a little too jubilantly. He got the impression they made that joke often. “I am getting more confused. Why have you come here?”

“Well, you know how everybody’s answer to what they would do if they had a time machine is to kill baby Hitler?”

“No!”

“Well, it’s totally a thing.”

“Yeah, dude, everybody hates you.”

“Anyway, everybody also says your hate stems from your lack of talent as an artist, your micropenis, and the fact that your mom was shitty.”

“Who says such things?”

“Like, everybody.”

“Well, my penis is ample, my art was praised by many, and my mother was a lovely woman. We were very close. She died of breast cancer, you know. You are slandering a cancer victim.”

“I heard she was Jewish and left when you were a kid.”

“Why would someone say these things?”

“Anyway, it’s obvious you went off the tracks somewhere.”

“You just need a positive influence, somebody to show you life can be fun.”

Hitler stamped his foot and screamed. “I am fun and smart. People like me.”

Laughter thundered all around him.

“Dude, the first step to fixing your problem is admitting you have one.”

“Screw you! I put the fun in fundamentalist!”

“Omg, you are funny.”

“He’s so post-modern.”

“Yeah, his sense of humor is so not funny it’s kind of hilarious.”

“Omg you guys, is it possible that the Holocaust was like the biggest post-modern joke ever. Like it’s just so not funny to murder all those people that you have to laugh at it, right?”

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Tragedy is the core of humor.”

Adolf forced a smile so that he wouldn’t sound angry. “Why don’t you all come closer. I like to see the people I’m talking to.”

“All right, but as a show of friendship you could put down your gun.”

“That is fair. Okay, I am putting the gun on the ground.” He stooped, pretended to lay the gun on the ground, and stood up slowly.

“That wasn’t very friendly.”

“How are we supposed to trust you if you do stuff like that?”

Adolf put the gun behind his back. “I don’t know what you mean.” The pistol jerked free of his hand and disappeared into the fog. He turned and ran after it, hoping to catch sight of the thief, but only managed to lose his orientation.

The girls’ giggles sounded like they were coming from every direction.

“Don’t worry. We’re not mad.”

“Yeah, we know change is hard.”

“And you need to change a lot.”

“Yeah, killing babies isn’t cool. They’re innocent.”

“And baby Jesus is like a hundred times more innocent than your average baby.”

“Omg, can you imagine what his head smells like?”

“Or his diapers.”

“I wonder what a Jesus diaper would go for on eBay.”

Hitler roared. “Quit your infernal yammering! Leave me alone!

“Sorry, we can’t do that.”

“We discovered time travel, just so we could help you.”

“It was a lot of work.”

Adolf screamed, “You have done nothing but insult me this entire time! You say you want to be friends, but you are very mean. You have not even introduced yourselves.”

The voice to his right said, “I’m Music.”

From his left. “I’m Love.”

Behind him. “I’m Angel.”

The silhouette of a small woman wearing a pleated skirt and weird goggles appeared ahead of him. “And I’m Baby.”

Hitler slid the hidden dagger out of his sleeve. “Nice to meet you. I’m the Fuhrer.” He lunged and slashed at her face, but she cartwheeled backward into the fog.

Again, the giggling.

Baby’s saccharine voice taunted him. “Naughty, naughty. He turned to his right and something cold and smooth hit him in the face, blinding him. “Gah, what is this?” he blinked and tried to rub the substance out of his eyes. After a bit, his sight returned, and he saw his hands sparkling like the inside of a geode. “Is this glitter? Have you glittered the Fuhrer? You know glitter is the herpes of the craft world. I’ll be sparkling for weeks. Goering will give me such a ribbing.”

The laughing continued.

“Don’t you laugh at me. This is not funny. You know what is funny? Your names are funny. Such goofy, stupid names.”

“Our names are cool.”

“They sound cooler in Japanese.”

“Everything sounds cooler in Japanese.”

“Do you guys ever wonder why she made us use the English translations of our names, but we’re contractually obligated only to speak Japanese in public?

“Mm-hmm.”

“Yeah.”

“Super weird.”

Hitler shook his finger at the voices. “See, even you think your names are silly. You come from a backward world, so inundated with information that nothing makes sense and everyone grows bored with everything as soon as they see it.

“Your world ran out of ideas in the nineties, so they rehashed previous fads. Once they used up all the cool ideas a second time, people grew so desperate for something new they started to venerate nerds, altruists, and judgmental busybodies. This is what happens in a progressive culture. You think you are unique, that your generation is the first to discover things, but it’s all been figured out long ago. Look at the things that never go out of style and it is always the same.”

Baby yawned. “Preach it, grandpa.”

“Fuck you! I have more style in my pinky finger than you have all added up together. In your future people hate the Nazis, but they fetishize our uniforms. They use our name to indicate high standards, such as grammar Nazis. In the movies, we are always the cool bad guys; horrible, cruel monsters that everyone secretly wants to be. Do you know why this is?”

Music answered him. “Because everybody wants to be recognized as uniquely valuable, and part of accomplishing that is to stand out, which requires rebellion. Since the core of civilized society is an agreement to restrain the impulses that can harm others, rebelling is intrinsically linked to misbehavior. Most people think in binary terms like progressive/conservative, male/female, good and evil. So, at least subconsciously, there’s a link between evil and cool.”

“Damn, Music!”

“Go, girl!”

Hitler shook his head. “No, your community college philosophy degree has failed you. The answer is simple. People like strength and beauty. It is the same with the monkeys. The one who dominates is the leader. When you talk about the cool, you mean attractive. Severity is simple and attractive, like nature.”

“Nature is infinitely complex.”

“Nature is life eating life. All else is trivia.”

“Sounds like somebody’s nipple-Band-Aids are on too tight.”

“I don’t even want to know that reference.” Adolf had run out of patience. He pulled is emergency transmitter out of his coat and pressed the button. Everything went white for a second, and the earth shook as the giant robot fell through the portal.

Adolf checked the direction on the transmitter and ran. He was halfway there before the girls’ retinas could stop sizzling.

“Music!”

“Omg, I think it landed on her.”

“Get back here, asshole!”

He was almost to the ladder when something meaty and wet wrapped around his ankle and dragged him backward. The girls crowded around, kicking him mercilessly. To his horror, he could see that the thing wrapped around his ankle was Babys’ tongue. It was long and think like the tentacles of Hirohito’s sex octopus. The memories of that night transported him to a better time.

Not much better. He’d fanaticized about this many times.

She sucked her tongue back in like spaghetti. “Omg, he’s touching himself.”

“Hentai!” Angel sprayed him in the face with glitter, but his eyes were closed in ecstasy.

Hitler lost his concentration, and a short burst of diarrhea flowed into his tighty whities. A dark-brown aroma soaked into the moist air and refused to budge.

“Omg, Hitler totally just gassed us.”

Adolf shook the glitter off and opened his eyes.

Baby pulled her goggles down around her neck and glared at him.

He smiled. “You know, you are homely for a Japanese.”

Angel sprayed him again.

Before he could recover, Baby pulled a long, pink switchblade out of her coat, cut off his upper lip, and held it at crotch level. “Look, it’s the nineteen-nineties.” The others laughed as she fastened it to her skirt with a big pink safety pin.

Angel poked her goggles up onto her forehead and unsheathed her bowie knife. “I call nineteen-seventies.”

Love pouted. “What’s that leave me?”

Angel pointed her knife at his chubby cheek. “Early two-thousands.”

Adolf reached down the back of his pants, got a handful of used schnitzel, and flung it into Angel’s eyes. “Hounden!” He slung the last greasy droplets at the other two, ruining their outfits.

While the girls screamed and gagged, he charged Baby, knocked her to the ground, and stumbled into the mist. The other two were too busy vomiting to run after him.

Baby threw her knife, but he had already disappeared.

Angel tore off her coat and scrubbed the poo from her face. “Eww! Why did I take my goggles off?

“He sure is feisty for an old guy.” Baby pulled up her goggles and scanned the landscape for heat signals. “Aww! He made it to the mech.”

“Let’s form Jukuboxx and kick his ass!”

“Will that even work with three people?”

“Good point. Without Music, we’re down a leg.”

“We’ll just have to use the Ultra-Hare get-big power to stomp his Nazi ass.

The girls pressed the buttons on their hairbows and shouted, “Juku-juku ultimate sizu!” and spun on the tips of their toes. They grew to twenty times their size, bumped into each other, and fell in opposite directions.

Baby was the first on her feet. “We have got to remember to stand farther apart.”

“Maybe if we did cartwheels away from each other as soon as the transformation starts?”

“Omg, we should totally choreograph a whole number around that. We can surround the enemy and strike victory poses, so they know they’re going to get their asses handed to them in the cutest way possible.

The giant replica of Germany’s judgiest man roared to life, belching fire and blasting diesel fumes from its ass. The glowing swastika on its chest was just above the fog line. They could see him cackling and pulling levers in the little control room behind its eyes.

Baby laughed so hard she snorted.

Hitler belched a fireball at her, but she somersaulted out of its path. Angel and Love whipped their tongues around the robot’s wrists.

Mecha-Hitler turned its head toward Love, a second fireball boiling in its throat.

“Nope!” She hit him with a glitter blast, extinguishing the pilot light.

“Hundin! You cannot extinguish the flame of purity.” Adolf’s missing lip made him sound like an angry goose.

Baby removed one of her scrunchy socks and dropped in a large boulder. “You’re pure stupid.”

Hitler fumbled with a box of matches as the girls began to dance. They crouched, did a Macarena thing with their arms, then cartwheeled around him three times binding his arms to his torso. Baby kicked him in the swastika, propelling him backward like a wrestler against the ropes. As he snapped back, she swung her sock up and knocked the head clean off its shoulders. Flaming diesel spurted from its neck, splashing the girls’ uniforms.

The girls sucked in their tongues and rolled in the sand to extinguish their uniforms while the body melted into a glowing heap.

Mecha-Hitler’s rocket boosters ignited, shooting flame out the bottom of its neck. It quickly regulated itself then shot around to ram into the side of Baby’s face. It broke her jaw and spun off leaving a trail of soot across her cheek.

Adolf cackled as he flew away. He was so proud of himself for suggesting the cockpit be a gyroscope. His top scientists assured him that no adversary could land a blow strong enough to make him need an escape pod, but he’d insisted. Hitler was a big fan of overkill. It’s better to have something and not need it than the other way around, hence the second failsafe.

He hit the button on the dash, and another portal opened. Out flowed the 666th battalion, every werewolf, vampire, zombie, and other abomination his occult division had mustered.

Strange, foreboding noises rumbled in the fog as machinegun fire prodded them out of the portal. The girls’ heat-vision showed a few warm dots here and there, but nothing worrisome.

Baby laughed and crushed one with the toe of her pastel army boot. The crunch was not what she expected. She raised her goggles and lifted her boot to find the sole crusted with mangled undead corpses of every variety moaning and wriggling their remaining limbs.

A cute guy with long hair and sharp teeth wriggled in one of the grooves. His head and left arm were all that were recognizable as humanoid. The look of torment in his eyes would haunt her for the rest of her life.

The portal closed, making it too dark to see her foot.

“Gyhrs, hwemact hovabroblm.”

Love asked, “Huh?”

Baby forced her jaw back into its socket and tried again. “We might have a problem.”

Angel thrust her fist in the air. “I got this.” She ran in a semicircle and flung her body at the ants.

Baby called out, “Wait!” but Angel’s feet had already left the ground.

“Full body rolling pin of doom!” Angel slammed into the ground crushing many a monster. She rolled over and over again, so caught up in the joy of heroism she didn’t notice the pain. Tiny pricks that barely registered as a tingle, quickly grew to a burning itch.

“What the…?” She rolled to her feet and screamed when she saw the mashed-up monsters smooshed all over her breasts. “Guys, I totally just destroyed my outfit.”

Love whipped out her phone and started taking video. “Say Genki-Genki.”

“No.” Angel ran her hands down the front of her top, sloughing off a few dozen soldiers. “Not funny.” She slapped at her skirt, knocking countless more to the dusty ground. “Eww! It smells!

Baby pulled out her Puffinstuff hanky and ran over to help. “Be careful! They’re zombies.”

“Zombies?” She pulled the bottom half of a werewolf out of her cleavage. “Do zombies have dogs?”

Hitler’s laughter thundered out of his speakers. “Stupid woman. You have covered yourself in the deadliest, or rather undeadliest viruses known to man. Have fun being a hairy, rotten vampire!”

“What?”

“It will be fun to see in what order the diseases ravage you. Also, the zombies are full of all kinds of other fun surprises your people cooked up at Unit 731.”

“Silly Hitler, your viruses can’t hurt me. I’m way too big!”

Mecha-Hitler tilted slightly. “Are you serious?”

Love pulled a tree out of the ground and swatted him like a tennis ball. The head flew about two hundred feet and stopped.

“No, really. I need to know if you’re kidding. This is going to bother me.”

Love threw the tree at him but missed.

“That is not how viruses work.”

She snatched another tree out of the ground and tried again, but the rocky dirt around the roots made it hard to aim.

Baby and Angel ignored him and continued to scrub at the jellied death.

“You were serious, weren’t you?”

Baby stamped her foot. “Shut up, Hitler.”

“I am too big, right? When I shrink, the virus shrinks too, so it’ll get smooshed by my white blood cells like mosquitos on a windshield.”

Adolf laughed. “Ha, I knew it! So dumb.” He pushed a button on the console and Mecha-Hitler raised his tongue revealing a chain gun. “Die now!”

Red-hot, thirty-millimeter rounds streamed toward Baby and Angel perforating their faces like a Wartenberg wheel.

“Stop ignoring me!” Love’s tongue whipped around Hitler’s craft and bashed it against a large rock over and over. The fourth blow cracked it in half, spilling its contents into the dirt. Four werewolves took the Fuhrer in their jaws and pulled his limbs in opposite directions. Jerking their heads mercilessly, they fought over him like he was a rag soaked in bacon grease.

Adolf didn’t scream. Instead, he bit into the cyanide capsule in his tooth and prayed to Mars that he would give the werewolves diarrhea.

His left shin came off first, spraying hot ropes of blood into the eyes of the wolf. Its howl conveyed the rage of the vengeful human trapped behind glowing, yellow eyes.

The other three fought harder, vying for second place, but the winner wasn’t satisfied. He ran forward and chomped on Adolf’s crotch for bonus points.

Hitler had read countless studies about extreme pain and their effects on the brain. Generally, when the body knows it’s dying, the brain spares itself unnecessary suffering by going into shock. Rather than experience the usual alarm bells, the victim experiences a warm tingly sensation and loses consciousness. However, a second trauma, such as having one’s nutsack masticated by a three-hundred-pound dog will snap you right out of it. He screamed so loud his lip-flaps fluttered, and death-foam shot from his throat like a soapy fountain.

Both his arms ripped off at the same moment, and the rest of him shot deeper into the fog. Baby stomped all three and ground them into the dirt with the tip of her boot. “No werewolf resurrection for you.”

Angel gave up on scrubbing and took off her top. The rot had soaked through to streak her skin and stain her Catbug bra green. “Aww! I loved that bra.”

Love walked over, crunching the undead underfoot as they attacked her shoes. “Weren’t we supposed to save his soul with friendship?”

“Fuck that guy. He killed Music.”

Angel joined them. “At least she won’t be stealing our yogurt anymore.”

“Really? Music’s dead, and you’re talking about yogurt?”

“Hitler’s dead and G’s not here. We can stop pretending we like each other.”

“Hey, what’s that?” Love pointed to a falling star that was growing frighteningly large.

“Uh, maybe we should go.” Baby pulled the time-portal gun out of its holster. Before she could fire it, the archangel Michael waved his flaming sword, rendering everything in a mile radius to ash and preventing God’s divine plan for humanity from devolving into a low-budget movie.

Winner: Everyone not involved in the fight.