Beat 62: More Bounce to the Sixteenth of a Pound
Patton looked down at his
son, and pressed a paw against his shoulder.
“It’ll be all right. I bet it’ll
all work out in the end.”
JP didn’t return any of
his compassion; he just stared out the van window, watching the town’s shops
whiz past. “It’ll work out because we’re
bound to get involved,” he grumbled, his chin propped up with one hand. “I’m starting to doubt anyone else can at
this point -- and not just because of the usual ‘everyone but me is an idiot’
reason.”
“Mmmm. Then that’s all the more reason to be at our
best.” He took a left turn. “Can’t help anyone if we’re on an empty
stomach.”
JP grunted. Even ace detectives could use a meal every
now and then.
“Hard to say for sure
-- for now, at least.” His gaze
hardened. “I’m no expert, but I’m
guessing it’ll come down to finding something -- or someone -- that doesn’t belong here. I already have an idea, but I want to get
some real evidence before going too far.”
Patton nodded. As expected of his son. “We’ll head back as soon as we get a bite at
the bakery. Gotta keep our energy up --
and our stomachs full.” He steered the
van into a parking space, and shut off the engine. “I’m gonna grab a bear claw or eight. You all right with a blueberry muffin?”
“You know I am.”
“Right. Back in a minute.” Patton slid out of the van and headed into
the bakery, somehow managing to squeeze his massive frame through the doorway.
Guess it’s just me, then, JP thought. He slipped down in his seat, so that no
troublemakers would spot him from the windows; as he did, he grabbed the strap
of the slim duffle bag beside him. His
high-interest insurance policy, so to speak.
Reckless as he could
(and usually did) get, JP couldn’t think of a better person to have around than
his dad. Ignoring the fact that he stood
almost three feet taller than him, JP knew that he’d make a much better target
than the big bruiser. Someone had it out
for him once, threatening to skewer his skull with an arrow and char-broil him
alive in the confines of a middle school.
Was it someone sending a message?
Calling him out? Or just out to
exact revenge? And why?
He didn’t know. And for the moment, he didn’t want to take
any more chances than what was necessary.
He’d scrape up whatever info he could, and he’d do it in the shadow of
Porbeagle’s so-called Butcher. Now, if
only he could get someone to pay him for sticking his neck out for others…
“I’m outta here!”
JP raised his eyes a
few inches above the dashboard -- just in time to watch the baker run out of
his shop, arms lashing through the air like wet noodles. Why, he could instantly guess; he looked to
the bakery, and sure enough he spotted a handful of burly bodies shifting
within. Of course, none of them looked
quite as burly as --
Ka-DOUBLE-DECKER
DESTRUCTION!
Patton flung a thug
through the bakery’s window, smearing pastries and cream (and glass shards) all
over his body. He rolled onto the
sidewalk, moaning and groaning and clutching his sides; he’d taken a beating,
but at least the worst was over.
Ka-PARFAIT OF PAIN!
Except it wasn’t. Another thug went flying -- well over the
display case -- and landed atop the first thug.
Both of them wheezed from the blow, hoping, and praying, that the beast
wouldn’t hammer them any harder.
Ka-BON-BON-BONECRACKER!
And miraculously, he
didn’t. Patton just flung a third thug
through the window, and stomped after him before the poor fool could even start
running. That didn’t stop him from
trying, but he’d barely climbed to his knees before Patton hoisted him by the
collar like a sopping-wet mutt. He
lifted the thug a bit higher, as if hoping to show him off to JP.
And JP certainly took
notice -- of the thug, and his crew. Black
trench coats. Heavy boots. Army fatigues. Green snake masks.
He almost smiled. Guess
we’ve found something that doesn’t belong.
*
“Yer sure about this,
pal?”
Lloyd -- clad in a
dusty baseball cap and a too-small hoodie -- gave a quick nod. “Pardon my small-mindedness, but I see few
other options. To leave Miss O’Leary in
a sorry state of affairs is to leave one of my comrades before a firing range.”
Mrs. Overdose looked
back at him from the driver’s seat. “You
ever learn how to say in three words what you say in ten?”
“I did. But I’ve long since shoved such lessons from
my mind.” He wore a pleasant smile, but
that only made Mrs. Overdose chomp on her reed even harder. “In any case, I know the inherent risks. If I’m being targeted -- by Gaston’s men, no
doubt -- then it’s safe to say that I’m being watched and pursued no matter
where or when I gallivant about. That
said…” He covered his mouth. “There’s an argument to be made that no
matter where I go, friends and townsfolk alike are at risk. Protecting them may not be as simple as just
burrowing underground.”
“Yeah, I gotcha,” said
Trixie. She rubbed the back of her
neck. “It ain’t exactly a good situation
to be in, that’s fer sure. Damned if ya
do, damned if ya don’t.”
“True enough -- which
is exactly why I intend to make what strides I can.” He held up a strip of paper. “I’ll have a hearty discussion with -- heh
heh, wordplay -- with Miss O’Leary, and explain to her the circumstances. There’s no guarantee that it can work, but
I’d prefer to proceed with alterations to the plan rather than outright
abandoning it.” He looked to Trixie and
Mrs. Overdose. “And as such, I’ll be
depending on the two of you for protection; you handled those fiends well
enough on your own, and given that I pray that you’ll stand as an aegis before
Miss O’Leary. Protect her, no matter
what harm may come to me.”
“Spoken like a true
knight in shining armor,” said Mrs. Overdose.
“Yes, I’d say so as
well.” Lloyd smiled shamefacedly. “Shame about these quirks of mine,
though. Hardly befitting of the job…but
alas, perfection eludes us all.” He
pointed out the window, and through a few rows of shrubs. “I’ll be heading to that yellow house in the
distance. If you would, try to keep an
eye on it -- and contact my family, so the four of you can compare notes. With any luck, this shouldn’t take long.”
“And if it does?”
“If it does,
then…hmmm. I hadn’t thought that far
ahead.” He pressed a thumb to his mouth,
and nudged it to and fro with his lips.
And then, suddenly, he opened his eyes wide. “Aha!
I know! I’ll just stay with her
for a while! A sleepover, of sorts!”
“Yer just gonna invite
yerself in and stay as long as ya want?”
Trixie hung her head. “I’m
guessin’ that ain’t exactly the best move to make, pal.”
“Well, I’m sure if I
make a case for myself, she’ll at least consider it. She’s a charming young lady. Then again, I could just be saying that
because of the presence of her gargantuan breasts -- though to be fair, they do
make a remarkably strong argument in her favor.” He tilted his head. “Hmmm.
I wonder if one of them is indeed larger than my head. Or how much one of them might weigh. Or what they feel like.”
Trixie stared blankly
at Lloyd. So did Mrs. Overdose.
Lloyd stared back at
them. And then he put on the biggest
smile he could make. “This is going to
be an amazing day!” he blurted. He leapt out of the car and waved at
them. “Farewell, my comrades! Guard us well! For you see, I’ve a momentous meeting with a
mountainous maiden! And I hope for --
oh, hey, more alliteration!
Exquisite!” He skipped merrily on
his way…for about eight steps, just before tripping and face-planting against
the concrete. But he jumped back up,
dusted himself off, and headed into the bushes after an impromptu jig.
“That guy sure knows
how to give a gal a headache,” Trixie muttered.
“I hear that.” Mrs.
Overdose turned to Trixie. “Wanna go see
her?”
“Huh wha?”
“You know. The boobs -- just a quick peek in the window,
and that’s it. Sounds like somethin’
that’d be worth a laugh.”
Trixie’s shoulders
slumped. “You’re just messin’ with me,
aren’t ya?”
“Nah. I just need somethin’ to watch on Tuesdays.”
*
Is this it? Is this the gate to
heaven?
Lloyd stood on the
porch, hand raised, but unable to press down on the doorbell. Behind
this door may lay a world I’ve yet to encounter in my wildest dreams. To venture in is to welcome a realm of
unfathomable depth -- and buoyancy -- into my fractured psyche. It is what I’ve prepared myself for, and a
step toward my ultimate harem…but all told, and all considered, can I truly
handle the effort? Can my heart -- among
other things -- handle the sheer amount of pressure I’m destined to bear?
He swallowed hard, but
forced a nod. Yes. I can. And I shall.
For the sake of glory, I shall step forward into this bold new
world. And I shall emerge triumphant!
He pressed the doorbell, and
heard the chimes sound off within.
The deed is done. And in a moment’s
time, I’ll be facing off with Miss O’Leary and…and… He jerked his head to the left, just as beads
of sweats started spraying from his body.
Wait a minute. If this is Miss O’Leary’s house, then I’m
bound to meet her family here as well.
And if that’s the case, then I’ll be receiving a thorough instruction on
genetics soon enough. And if that’s
true, then…if Miss O’Leary is what one might charitably call improbably buxom…
His eyes nearly bulged
out of his head. Could it be…? Could it be that
the madam of the house…is even further beyond?!
He didn’t have much
time to wonder any longer. Because at
that moment, the door swung open, and revealed…
Lloyd threw his fists
into the air. “CALADBOLG!”
“Ah, you must be
Lloyd. It’s so good to finally meet you
in person.”
Lloyd pulled his fists
down -- and actually decided to look at the woman who greeted him. To his surprise, she was…average. Completely average. Average height and build. Brown hair swept into a smooth bob, and brown
eyes that gave off the expected motherly warmth. A yellow polo shirt and khakis, with a plaid
jacket tied around her waist. She looked
like every soccer mom Lloyd had ever seen molded into one, and coalesced into a
single mind. Conventionally attractive,
sure, but harrowing all the same (if she was indeed some multi-brained
conglomerate).
“I’m Jane, Sheila’s
mom,” she said, extending a hand. She
flashed a bright smile. “You’ve got
quite the shouting voice there.”
Lloyd looked down at
her hand, and then back at her -- and with a bashful laugh, he took her hand in
his own. “Forgive me for the
absurdity. I tend to get a bit carried
away at times.”
“Well, don’t we
all? Come on in; I’ll hang up your
clothes, and you can have yourself a few oatmeal raisin cookies. I just made a fresh batch.”
“O-oatmeal raisin? Those are my favorite!” He pulled off his jacket and cap, and let the
lady of the house take them aside. “Such
hospitality…I’m not worthy of your kindness, Madam O’Lea-”
“Please, call me
Jane. I insist.” She led Lloyd into the nearby kitchen and
pulled out a chair at the table. “Have a
seat. I’ll give you as many cookies as
you want.”
“Oh, yes, er…thank
you…Jane. But I don’t need a full plate
of…” He took a seat and sniffed at the air.
“Well, maybe just one would do.
But generosity aside, I didn’t come here just to delight in your
presence.”
“I figured as
much. You’re here to see Sheila, right?”
“Essentially, yes. It’s a matter of some importance, I’d…” He trailed off just as Jane set a small plate
and a glass of milk before him. “Er,
Mada- Jane. You said ‘it’s good to
finally meet you in person’, yes? What
exactly did you mean by that?”
Jane didn’t answer
him. She just tended to the oven before
her, rustling and sliding about trays and foil.
“Is there something
that I need to know?” A stupid question,
of course. Lloyd already had an answer.
Jane looked over her
shoulder with a terse smile.
“Lloyd? You’re in for a rough
time.”
TO BE HEARTINUED…
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