By The Hermit....

Little Jackie was just that -- he was little, really little! Fate had dealt poor Jackie a hand that was beyond cruel. You see, Jackie's parents were dwarfs and looked like dwarfs. The malformed cartilage caused by the achondroplasia caused their features to fit with their tiny bodies. They were readily accepted into the little people's culture and had no problem finding work in the world of the giants. However, Jackie turned out to be a freak.

Jackie was normal size for a dwarf. His 34 inch frame was strong and healthy, but the horrible part was that he didn't develop properly. He was twenty-six years old and still looked exactly like a nine year old giant. The military wanted nothing to do with him, no employer would believe that he was really a twenty-six year old dwarf and the truant officers were constantly harassing him about skipping school.

Luckily, his mother and father were making a comfortable living in the movie industry, and they were able to support him while he searched for his niche in life. Secretly they hoped he would find his calling in some trade that would require him to travel a lot because even after twenty-six years, they still were a little embarrassed when they introduced the ugly, baby giant as their son.

Jackie finally settled on the idea of becoming a free lance journalist and writing for various newspapers and magazines. He had majored in English and in Journalism at City College; however, every major university turned him down shortly after the personal interview. He decided to use the credentials from City College, now all he needed was some experience. Then as a freelance stringer, he could just fax in his stories and articles. Nobody needed to know he was only 34 inches tall.

It worked out much better than Jackie had imagined because as a scruffy looking little street urchin, he was able to observe things happening, listen to giant conversations and even tape record crimes in the planning stages. The local newspapers found that his information was consistently accurate and his work sold as quickly as it was offered -- even though it didn't carry a by-line.

He soon found out that the poor, hungry, little children who lived on the streets were invisible to the big grown-up giants -- except for one kind of giant...the kind of giant that does horrible things to the little giants. This was the worst kind of giant of all.

One time Jackie was leaning against a board fence while he listened to a drug deal going down on the other side. He was listening so intently, he didn't hear the steps behind him. Suddenly, he was lifted by his hair and turned in the air. A foul smelling old wino was already naked from the waist down. The wino grabbed Jackie by the throat and forced his head lower.

Jackie grabbed the man's ankles and bit a large chunk out of his crotch while jerking on the ankles. The wino screamed, cursed and turned loose of Jackie long enough for Jackie to run like hell out of the alley. Jackie looked back just in time to see one of the drug dealers lean over the top of the fence and shoot the wino several times. It was the first in a series of stories Jackie decided not to submit for publication.

Jackie had nightmares about the experience for several weeks after that. Then, he started visualizing what was happening to all those helpless little-giants. It made him sick, and the longer he dwelled on the subject, the angrier he got. He suddenly realized he had found his calling. He was sure his parents wouldn't approve, but he had to do it anyway. The only thing they would approve of would be the traveling part, but he'd even have to work out a cover story to explain his frequent absences.

He spent the better part of the next year studying martial arts, weaponry and theater arts. He soon became so skilled at applying make-up that he could fool his parents. He told them he was going to California to try his luck at making TV commercials. If it didn't work out, he'd be wiring home for bus fare. They laughed and wished him well.

Jackie Hobart left town -- never to be seen again, but Jackie, the Giant Killer stuck around for about a month, until he read about the citizens in Lancaster, Pennsylvania being terrified by a child molester who was trying to drag their little girls into his light-blue mini-van.

Jackie had his own specially equipped van. His parents had the van modified for his size when he graduated from high school. Now, it served as home and dressing room. Jackie parked in a super market parking lot in Lancaster and put on his make-up.

Ten minutes before the school bell rang, Jackie parked his van in the church parking lot about a block from school. A pretty little girl with red curls jumped out, yelled, "Bye Daddy," and walked toward the school; books under one arm and lunch bucket in her other hand. Nothing happened during her walk to the school, so she kept on walking to the end of the block. She crossed the street and came back -- still no action, so she returned to the van and took a nap.

She struck out again that afternoon when school let out, and not wanting to be too conspicuous, she decided to leave the van several blocks away next time. She didn't want people in the neighborhood to report a suspicious van hanging around the school.

The next morning Jackie left the van parked in the super-market parking lot, and the little red-haired girl walked the six blocks to school. Once again, no one approached her even though she lingered outside in front of the school long after the bell rang. She was walking back to the super-market when the white station-wagon pulled up beside her and stopped. Jackie looked over and quietly swore under his breath. The vehicle had an insignia on the side. It read, "Lancaster Unified School District," and beneath that was, "Truant Officer."

The driver got out came to the sidewalk and asked,

"Just where do you think you're going, young lady? Don't try to lie to me because I've been following you since you left the school. Since you never went in, I don't suppose you have a written excuse to leave, do you?" he scowled and took her by the arm. "You're going right back to school, and you better not try to skip gain...you hear?"

Jackie nodded meekly, his mind racing frantically. The last thing he wanted was to have his cover blown so soon. The papers would eat it up and the molester would be pre warned. The truant officer sat him in the front seat and then did something strange. He handcuffed Jackie's right hand to the inside door handle saying,

"I've got to make a quick stop and I don't want you running off on me. This'll do the trick." Jackie had been harassed by the truant officers back home many times but none of them ever handcuffed any of the kids. Warning bells started going off in his head. He became sure when the driver headed away from the school instead of toward it.

"Hey Mister, you're going in the wrong direction. You said you were taking me to school...I want out of here. Let me go, please."

"No, you've been a bad little girl, and you must be punished! After you've been taught a lesson, maybe I'll let you go. Depends on if you are a good little girl." He grinned at Jackie.

Jackie heard a groan coming from the back end of the station-wagon. A bloody head came into sight slowly as somebody sat up and groaned again.

"Damn, I thought I killed that bastard. He must have the hardest skull in the world. I guess I'll just have to finish the job." He started pulling over onto the right shoulder.

"Who is it?" Jackie asked.

"The damn, truant officer. My van got too popular, so I decided to trade it for the truant officer's car. His bad luck was that he caught me while I was hot-wiring it, so I hit him in the head with a brick. I thought he was dead, but I guess I was wrong."

While the driver was getting parked, Jackie squirmed around until he reached the small, flat 32 automatic in his back waistband. He had practiced the exercise with both his right and left hands, so he had no difficulty being ready when the driver opened the back door of the station-wagon. The truant officer watched in amazement as the cute little girl with the red curls gave him a quick smile, and then shot the child molester in the head three times. The man dropped like a falling tree, kicked once and stopped moving. She dug into her lunch box for something, retrieved it and used it to pick the lock on the handcuff.

She asked the truant officer,

"Can you drive?" He nodded, yes.

She waved good-bye and disappeared into the bushes that lines the road.

The bloody truant officer wasn't about to drive off and leave a body alongside the road and try to explain it later. He leaned against the front fender and waited for a car to come along. The first three wouldn't stop, but the fourth was a truck driver driving a delivery truck. He stopped and promised to call the sheriff when he got to the next service station. He asked if he should call an ambulance, but the truant officer said most of the blood came from one little cut on his head -- he was all right.

He was almost all right, you might say, because he had one helluva time convincing the sheriff that he had been rescued by a pretty little girl, about nine years old, with curly red-hair. A sweet little girl who while handcuffed to the door handle of his station-wagon had blown the brains out of this stranger, picked the lock and disappeared into the bushes.

The only things that saved his butt were his busted head, some red fibers from a wig and the fact that he was well known and respected in the area. They immediately started searching for a pretty little girl with red hair....

They should have been looking for a blonde, blue-eyed boy who was hitch-hiking from Harrisburg to Pittsburgh to live with his mother. Cover story being that father did dirty things to him, so he ran away from home. Jackie figured if he didn't snag any perverts by the time he got to Pittsburgh, he'd just turn around and hitch-hike back. He could work a different turnpike each week until his services were needed elsewhere.....